MORE Happy Time For The Koopalings
by CosmicKitten89
Summary: The long-awaited happier, fappier follow-up to my faptastic hit from three years ago. Each Koopaling gets a one-shot about a hilarious, disgusting and downright outrageous moment of self-pleasure, told in their point of view. Story cover courtesy of Treacle Parcheesi (EdieMammon on DeviantART)
1. Larry's got your number

Yo. Larry here. Looking in the bathroom mirror, getting ready for a hot date night.

Got my cool shades on. You digging the shades?

Got myself a pair of sweet kicks on. They cost more than some of Wendy's heels yo.

Got my swag-tastic jacket on. Ladies really dig the jacket yo.

Just gotta comb my Mohawk just right, use the right kind of hair gel – DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING of Dr. K's. Got a load of his brand of crap in the cabinet but trust me on this. He's a Kook. And I mean Kook with a capital 'K' yo.

I spritz some breath spray and now my Black Eyed BeanBeans ringtone goes off. Must be her.

"Hello sweetheart?" I turn around to make sure the door is closed. Not taking any chances. One time it was dark, and I thought it was my date who had walked by, so I called them in, and well after smooching a pair of glasses I turned on the light and found out it was IGGY! Freaked the hell out of me! I shudder and try to repress what happened that evening, because tonight is all about tonight, yo.

"Um, Larry…" says my date, Pom Pom. She's hot as hell yo.

"What is it baby?" I say it oh-so-slow and breezy like.

"I forgot that I was invited to a sleepover at Toadette's tonight. "

"A sleepover?" Dang, oh right, Wendy is off doing that tonight too. I should have known better than to ask her out on THIS Saturday night.

"Yeah, sorry…"

"Wait babe… you can cancel? Reschedule? You got next Friday free?"

"I don't know about next Friday, but I can't do it tonight. I already RSVP'd to the sleepover before I said yes to tonight, and I forgot that I was having a sleepover tonight when I agreed to go out with you this Saturday. Birdo, Goombella and your sister are all going to be there. I'm so, sooo sorry..."

I hang up. FUUUUUUCK! This is the third time this month that a chick has blown me off after we agreed to a date! I was hoping to have a happy ending tonight too, wink wink. It feels like it's been FOREVER since I've been laid, man. I'm so horny I could fuck a Pokey!

Not to mention all the hair gel I wasted. Man, you know how much that shit costs yo?

Well, fuck her, man. I'll just get back at her by having a sexy phone conversation with one of her little friends at the slumber party.

I make extra sure the door to this bathroom is locked shut. Hehehe. Usually I do this in the shower, but you can't take a phone in the shower now, can you?

Let's see, which one… out of Toadette, Goombella and Birdo… not Birdo. FUCK NO. Learned that the hard way. Chick's not a- -GAG- well, I'm just gonna leave that one to your imaginations.

Can't be Toadette either. She hates me. Screams and tattles on the teacher every time I so much as wink at her. If I dialed her up, she would scream and hang up as soon as she heard my voice.

So, short of phone-incesting my sister, that leaves Goombella. Meh. I never really thought of her as a sex object before. I mean, she's a… she's a freaking potato-shaped fungus or something, man, where would a dude even put it?

Actually, come to think of it, there's something strangely erotic about her freaky weird anatomy, the more I think about it.

Wooh, I think I'm getting turned on here. That settles it. I look on my contacts list to see if I got her number.

Fuck. I've got just about every chick in the school's phone number – even Birdo's! – but not Goombella's. Oh right, you know how when you give your number out to chicks, how some of them never call you back? Right, Goombella was one of those chicks. Birdo on the other hand was one of those chicks who gives YOU their number but that's another story. I guess I'm gonna have to call Wendy.

"Hello sis? Um, I've got to ask you a favor…"

"Make it quick. I'm gonna hit the mic and do a few rounds of karaoke in a sec."

Ouch. I hope everybody brought their earplugs. "I uh, I need to speak with Goombella, it's about our history assignment."

Wendy makes one of her sharp, sassy sighs, but she probably doesn't think I would be turned on by Goombella, of all girls. I hear her shouting in the background and then the sound of the phone being handed over to… eeehh, what do Goombas hold things with? Their feet? Tongues? The mystery makes my hard-on even harder.

"Hello?" Goombella's voice asks. I never realized how nice her voice sounds. Very girl-next-doorish, but we all know that the girl next door always turns out to be a sex goddess once you get her in the bed. Rawr.

"Good evening, Goombella…" I say, trying not to moan as I run my fingers over the length of my manhood. "I trust all is swell and dandy at your little girls night in?"

"Uh, yeah… what have you got planned for this evening?"

"Oh, I'm just sitting here, polishing wood…"

An awkward moment of silence. Come on Larry, think fast…

"… that's woodwind instruments. My brother Ludwig is paying me major coinage to polish his woodwind instruments. That's flutes, clarinets, oboes, fuck you wouldn't believe the quantity of spit I have just dumped out of this bassoon…" Slick, real slick. See, Larry is the King of Smooth.

True story by the way, yo. I used to clean Lud's instruments all the time, and then I stopped when I got old enough to demand more money. A Coin an hour to scrub all the tarnish out of the nooks and crannies of a silver-plated piccolo with a tiny little toothbrush and then to crawl inside a French horn with a pipe cleaner to catch all that rotten sludgy saliva just ain't gonna cut it anymore. Lemmy does that now, and he is glad to get paid in candy.

Aw shit. All this talk of nasty ass musical instruments is making me soften up. Better switch topics…

"At least I think that it's spit. But we all know what Lud really does behind closed doors with his precious instruments…" I laugh weakly, hearing nothing but Goombella's breathing. At least she's breathing. Do walking mushrooms have lungs? Would they be into breathplay or things like that?

"Um, what did you call me for again?" she asks in that skeptical, appealingly virginal voice of hers.

"Oh… it's about our… history assignment…" I am breathing kind of heavily. Just a few more titillating strokes and my cock will be hard as rock.

"What about it?"

Her voice makes me swoon. I stand up on the toilet seat and take a deep breath. "I… need… help on it…"

"What kind of help?"

My pelvis involuntarily thrusts in reaction to her every syllable. I reach over to the sink to grab some… well, hair gel might work in a pinch.

"Oh… with the… um… whole thing…"

"Are you all right? You don't sound too well… your breathing…"

I put the cell phone on my shoulder and hold it up to my ear that way while I slather some gel on my cock. Aaahh, that's better… Now, to cover my ass.

"I have… asthma. Yeah… and I just got back from the… gym, you know… trying to muscle up like my big bros," I pant in between every few words, rubbing the goop over my big D until it gets sticky and I got some tight friction going on… "but hoo boy… the… the gym does a number on a guy with… with asthma and… and a cold."

"A cold? You poor dear…"

She's showing sympathy. Sweet.

"I'm alright… Pops said it's good for… for a sickly man to get some… some exercise… it's just been making it hard to… to get my homework done… So could you… could you help out?"

Unf. This gel is giving little Larry this sweeeeet tingling sensation. I reach over for some more, and this time I look at the label to see what's in it.

Yikes! I've been grabbing Dr. K's Glow-in-the-Dark Hair Serum by accident! I was a guinea pig for that once man. Shit's radioactive. Made my hair fall out, and Dr. K himself took that as his opportunity to test his Hair-Raising Follicular Tonic on my scalp. But hey, maybe it works fine as an alternative to KY and should be rebranded as such, I know radioactive endocrinators were a pretty hot commodity back in the day.

"I'll be glad to help you out."

"Could you… could you say that again dear?" I hope that didn't come out too sweet and lusty on the other end.

"What?"

"Oh the background noise… could you… could you go somewhere quiet to talk?" I can vaguely hear Wendy shrieking the lyrics to her favorite pop song, "Material Girl", in the background. The noise gets softer as I can tell Goombella has gotten way from the noise.

"I said, I'll be glad to help you out. How about I drop by tomorrow at noon?"

Score! "It's a date! Hehe, I mean… I don't mean THAT kind of date, of …course."

I'm so frigging close to cumming now. If I could only get her to say ONE naughty thing, just… ooh, hehehehhh….

"Oh one more thing… I have a bit of… math homework… and I… lost my calculator… I just need to ask… what is the square root of… …four thousand seven hundred and sixty-one?"

Hehe, I got that one memorized yo.

"Um, let me see here… just one moment, I got my calculator in here somewhere…" Nerd. What kind of girl brings a calculator to a slumber party?

My mind goes some creepy, creepy places as I try to imagine how she uses a calculator without hands. Wait for it… I'm rubbing it harder and faster…

"It's sixty-nine."

I moan, and almost climax. Almost. I hope she didn't hear. "Could you say that… one more time?"

"Sixty-nine."

"Sixty… NINE!" I scream, my voice hoarse and gargled from the heat of passion, and I come like water out of a F.L.U.D.D. machine, purposely aiming it at Ludwig's bath towel. Hehe if anybody asks Iggy used it as a snot rag.

"Are you all right?" Goombella asks.

I lay back on the fuzzy toilet lid cozy, my softie shriveling up. "Thank you, doll. Just thank you so, sooo much. You have no idea how happy I am to finally have that… FINISHED."

"Glad I could be of assistance."

Man, how naïve could she be? I half-expected her to see through my bullshit any moment during our conversation. This is gonna be toooo easy. And Larry likes easy.

"Just relax and take it easy, don't work yourself too hard until you're better, ok?" she says.

"No sweat. They don't call me Leisure Suit Larry for nothing." Hehehe. "See you tomorrow."

The moment I hang up, my phone rings again. This time, it's… FUCK IT'S POM POM! I had better not sound like I had just been romancing a talking fungus over the phone! If her brother Boom Boom finds out I'm two-timing her, he's going to beat my tail into the ground!

"Hey baby. How's the party?"

"Good. Your sister is actually not that bad of a singer." She giggles. "Oh, and again I'm very sorry that I had to cancel tonight, but you know what, my brother is taking your sister out to the movies at noon tomorrow, and I was wondering if you would like to come and make it a double date?"

What do I do?! I can't blow her off or dump her either, Boom Boom will pulverize me either way for breaking his sister's heart! He won't even need to, I've seen Pom Pom in action, and she can kick ass as hard as her brother! I'll just have to go and… and reschedule with Goombella.

"All rightie, sweetie, take care my darling Goom Goom."

FUCK.

"WHAT did you just call me?!"

"Darling, isn't that your name? You're the girl version of Boom Boom, so 'B' for boy, 'G' for girl, that wasn't my pet name for Goombella if that's what you were thinking…"

Smooth move Larry. Keep digging yourself deeper and deeper… hehe. Deeper. Yo.


	2. Morton's Mischievous Mall Misadventure

Hey everybody! It's me, Morton Koopa Junior!

I'm at the Toad Town Mall – you know, it's just one of those days when King Dad makes us all go to the mall, and sometimes he lets us all just go and do our own thing. Ludwig doesn't really like the mall, he is probably just sipping a Koopaccino at the café on the bottom floor reading a book he picked up at the Book Star we've got on the second floor. Roy hates the mall too, either he's pounding the shit out of mannequins at one of the department stores or looking at athletic shoes at the Foot Locker we've got in the waaaaay back on the bottom floor. Or maybe he's – one time I spied him looking at bath salts and seashell soaps and other bath and shower crap at the top floor bath and body store but don't tell him I saw that! Wendy of course loves the mall, she's either off buying piles of overpriced bras and panties at Victoria's Shell or overpriced heels at Paymore Shoe Emporium or overpriced handbags at May We Please Have Some Couture or other girly crap at some other girly crap store, with her Royal Rewards credit card – I actually have one of those too, hehe. But it's not a credit card, it's for a froyo place that they used to have here but it got torn down because this mall is undergoing some MAJOR construction work. Lemmy is either goofing around at the toy store or sneaking free candy samples at the candy store, and Iggy is, well, probably doing the same thing. Hehe or worse. Larry is probably at Spencer's, you know, every mall has one of those, that dirty adult gift store that sells shit like gummy bras and macaroni penises and masturbating electronic plush Chihuahuas and blowup dolls… HAHaha, I'll bet he's plunking down his Coins for one of them blow up dolls, haha and that's saying something because he's too fucking cheap to buy anything he can get away with shoplifting.

But what am I doing? Heh, I used to spend my mall days at the food court cramming my face with as much shit as I could afford, but things are different these days now that I got a job! Remember that construction work I told you was going on around here? Haha that's me! I get to swing wrecking balls around and smash shit with hammers and this is hard work so I've been bulking up big time! I'm even bigger than Roy now, maybe not quite as muscly but I'm getting there! He's been lazy as fuck about his workout routine lately too, so it won't be long now before I can kick his ass!

When we get finished with the construction here there's gonna be a fitness center and a movie theater and a real world style doughnut shop and a Koopaberry – that's another froyo place, I hope they're as good as the old one! Oh, and best of all, we're making room for a KART RACING TRACK! I can't wait!

But it's noon and time for my break now. Whew, holy shit this work is tiring! I'm having an extra cheese giant pizza slice at the food court and I'm washing it down with a tall chocolate milkshake – hey, I gotta carbo-load for my job!

Iggy comes and sits next to me with one of them health smoothies from Juicy Kong's and one of them hot gooey cinnamon rolls that I love!

"Oh, hey Iggs!"

"Hi Morty! How's work?"

"Heh, same old, same old. Demolition is a great way to get a work out!"

"Hrrrrmmm, if I were you, I would just build a Bob-Omb loaded with one of my TOP SECRET PATENT PENDING KABOOOOOM!-formulas and KABOOOOOM! All done! GAHAHAHAHAHAha…."

"Hehe, you would. So whatcha up to?"

"Oh, I've just been shopping around for parts to tinker with… mmmrrrrrmmm not much luck. I checked the toy shop, but all they had was solar powered soda can robot kits and build your own model airplanes… hahahaHAhahaHAAAAAH…"

Damn, Iggy's laugh is fucking creepy. He pauses and only takes a tiny sip of his drink. Damn it, how is he not tearing into that steamy roll of swirling sugary goodness right now?

"I can build a model airplane out of a motor from a hair dryer and cardboard from the box it came in." Iggy draws his face almost too close for comfort to me, his crooked fangs spreading into an infectious grimace. "Wendy wasn't too happy."

I nearly roll onto the floor laughing my ass off at that one. "WHAT USE DOES SHE EVEN HAVE FOR A… I DON'T EVEN HAHAHAHAHA…"

I pound the table while laughing, and Iggy's drink dumps over. He screams this crazed, howling scream and picks it up before too much of the green juice can ooze through the squooshed-from-being-dumped-over lid on top.

"Whoops, sorry there Ig, heh guess I don't know my own strength." I flex my biceps and kiss them a little like I see Roy doing in the mirror all the time.

"Yeeees, yes indeedy, you have been, how you say, beefing up lately, haven't you?"

"Are you gonna finish that?" I ask, pointing to his still untouched cinnamon roll.

"UPUPUP! I still have not finished telling you about my day. And so, I left Lemmy to his business at the create-your-own teddy bear factory, and then I checked the computer store – still lightyears behind my own technology, sadly."

Iggy sips another drop of his smoothie and finally picks off a small piece of his pastry. Damn, I just remembered, Iggy got put on this new drug when he went on one of his frequent little 'vacations' to the 'happy house' last week, and Iggy has always been a picky eater but come to think of it, he has really been picking at his food since then.

"But later, like just now I discovered this really neat place! It's called Brookstone, ever heard of it?"

Brookstone?! "The fuck? You mean that boring home and garden gift store that sells nothing but boring and expensive crap that nobody needs?"

"Mmmhmmm. Tell me, my dear brother, have you ever actually stepped in to look inside?"

"Fuck no man, it looks too fucking boring from the outside!"

"Yes yes I know, it may LOOK boring on the outside, buuuut if you would only once just step inside for a quick little peekie poo look see, I PROMISE you won't be disappointed."

Iggy winks, and laughs this terrifying, hollow high-pitched laugh.

"And then I got myself this banana kiwi passionfruit smoothie, and on a whim I decided to pick up one of these… eeeeehhh snail rolls…" Seems Iggy forgot the name for it and made up a name based on its looking all spirally like a snail shell.

"Hey man are you all right? Seems the shit the doc put you on last week is fucking with you pretty bad."

"Yes, yes it is. Eating has become even more of a chore, my mouth for once is not wet with salivation like from the others but rather so dry my fangs ache from being demineralized, and perhaps this is not quite so apparently evident, but I have also become rather… _soft_."

"Sucks bro. Hey does that mean you are not going to finish that?"

"No, have at it." Iggy pushes the 'snail' roll to me and right away I begin wolfing it down.

"But anyway, I have already taken action to remedy the _soft_ness of which I speak," Iggy goes on. "The sole reason I purchased this fruit drink was as a vehicle for a certain antidote to said side effect which I have concocted, pity I can't will myself to finish it…"

I grab the smoothie and drink it.

"GAAAAAAAH how can you stand to orally consume so much in one sitting?" Iggy asks.

"Hey hey hey, I call it a talent."  
"HAHAha weeeeell, have fun! Oh, and think about visiting that place I told you about." Iggy runs off to do… fuck I don't think he even knows what!

But I have a half hour left before I have to go back to work, so I may as well see what's so fucking great about fucking Brookstone.

It's like square in the fucking middle of the bottom story of the fucking mall, right in front of the water fountain with dolphin statues and Coins at the bottom that Larry likes to fish out, across from the café, and between the old ladies' clothing store and the greeting card store with the stale Tic Tacs.

I step inside, swinging my trusty hammer back and forth, and I see… pillows, electric fans, portable grillers, blenders, blankets, even leftover musical stockings from the after-Christmas sale – or are they for the early bird Christmas sale? Fuck, there's no limit to how early they will sell holiday shit to make a buck. This is the kind of shit that old people like Kamek and Kammy would buy each other as late anniversary presents! If Iggs is bored by model airplanes at a novelty toy store, then what the fuck does he find even remotely interesting about this place?

Okay, so I can kind of see what Iggy might like about this place. The pillows are high-tech massage pillows, the blankets are electric blankets, and one of those fans is actually an air purifier. But what does he think I might like about this place?

Well, hey! They got a massage chair on display! And nobody's using it now, so… I hop on.

A-a-a-a-a-a-aah… this-feels-g-g-g-gr-rrreat…. A-a-a-a-and-d-d-d-d-d…. I'm unexpectedly horny. You know, just one of those times when out of nowhere you're just itching to FUCK something?

I turn around and lie tummy-first on the massage chair so nobody can see my member, now fast becoming erect. The velvety upholstery vibrating against my crotch – grrr feels so fucking good! My manhood hardens up enough to shove it between the chair cushions… AAAAWWW FUUUUUCK YES!

WAIT A MINUTE…. WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?! I'm in a public area, if somebody catches me doing this shit I'll be banned from this mall and lose my job!

I get up from the fucking (haha… FUCKING!) chair and look around. Damn, this store is a ghost store. But just to be on the safe side I should… hey, here's an electric blanket! Grrrreat! Nobody will know if I cover up!

I wrap myself up in the blanket and turn it on. It's not cold but hey, heat is sexy! I hop my ass back into the massage chair, dick first.

I snarl, my mouth foaming like a rabid mammal's, and bite down on the blanket. I roll around in the blanket to make it tighter and tighter… TIGHTER AND TIGHTER… so tight I almost rip a hole in this merchandise. Heaven forbid I fucking jack up all over it…

The blanket is now wet with beads of drool where my mouth is. I am tangled up so tight in it I am borderline strangling myself. I probably can't free myself without ripping it apart, but I don't care, I am so wrapped up – hehe WRAPPED UP get it? – in the heat of the moment I can't even think straight! All I can think about is how, as hot as this moment is, it would be even hotter if I had some hot sexy tunes to go with it!

"…WRECKING BALL…"

Hey somebody turned the giant speakers they got on display on! It's that fucking song… don't tell nobody, but I got a guilty pleasure for this fucking song. Hehe it really is a 'fucking' song!

I finally manage to wriggle my way out of that blanket and I grab my hammer off the floor. I French kiss the hammer… haha had to try it. But now I want to try something else…

Don't know what's coming over me… I am shoving the hammer handle up my ass. I don't even like things up my fucking anus! But shit, that actually feels pretty fucking good. Plus, the chair vibrating against the hammer head is making the vibrations go up my rectum, so it's kind of like a vibrating dildo!

"YOU HIT ME LIKE A…"

FUCK! Did I just scream that out loud?! Holy shit, I had better switch the music to something I wouldn't mind being caught singing out loud to… something hot and sexy like… like KISS!"

"…THEY CALL ME DOCTOR LOVE…"

Hey hey, the music switched on its own, and to just the song I had in mind too! What serendipity! Do they got mind reading thought activated gadgetry at this store?

I'm so hot now I'm sweating. Maybe I should turn the blanket off. But man, this is just EPIC! KISS's songs are the hottest, sexiest, best FUCKING songs of all time! Haha and I mean that both ways!

I get up to fetch a few fucking pillows. I pick up one of these colorful little bolster pillows, overpriced but damn if it isn't comfy! I also pick up one of those pillows shaped like a toilet seat that you wrap around your head, and I turn it on.

FU-U-U-U-Uuhhh…. Do they got vibrating EVERYTHING here? Even… could they possibly? At a family store like this?

HOLY FUCK THEY DO! I find a packaged 'cordless personal massager', with a picture of a lady on the box smiling as she uses it on her shoulder, but the sheer SHAPE of the doohickey makes it clear what it's REALLY used for. I open the package, rip off the bubble wrap and other packaging shit and… GOOD the batteries are already in. VERY convenient. I am much too hot and bothered to be bothered with tasks like putting fucking batteries into shit.

I jam it up there and turn it on at full power… UUUUHHHH YEAH NOW THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUUUUUT!

I jam around like a rocker possessed on stage. I leap on top of the vibrating chair to hump that little bolster pillow. Bouncing up and down, up and down… WHEEEEE-EEE-EEE-EEE-EEEeee… this must be what it feels like when Lemmy bounces up and down like this on his ball! Hehe no wonder he's so happy all the time!

Okay, now I'm pretty fucking close to cumming. I want this moment to be epic. I press the button on the vibrating chair that makes it lean back, like one of those cool dental chairs, but I want to make it lean forward, so I press the other one until the back of the chair is straight up. And then I climb my vibrating ass to the top of the chair, hell knows how I manage to keep my balance between the vibrating in the chair, the vibrating toilet cozy around my neck, and my literally vibrating ass, and I hold up my hammer to use like a microphone as I sing,

"THEY CALL ME DOCTOR LOOOOOVE!"

My balance finally fails, and I tilt myself forward so I fall face first into the chair. I aim just right, and I land with my dick jammed straight into the cushion seams like I drive a nail through wood with my hammer. Oh wait, I normally use my hammer for DE-struction, not CON-struction. Awww yeeeaaahh… the cum gets squirted in there like jelly into a cream doughnut. No wait, that's cream into a jelly – ggrrrr cream into a whatchamacallit… barbarian cream doughnut. Mmmm can't wait till that doughnut shop is finished.

Oh, but the blanket was jammed into the seams too, and I've soiled it. Hehe, no matter. I'll just ask King Dad to buy me that… and the chair, which by now is covered with drool and bite and scratch marks… and the vibrator… and this funky neck pillow… but how to explain… oh wait, I've got money now! Hehe that's the benefit of working, you know, money comes with stipulations if you're always only getting it from your old man.

Speaking of which, it's about time for me to get back to work. I clean up my mess and gather up all the shit that I want to buy, trying to figure out if I've at least got enough Coins to put this shit on layaway, but nobody's at the counter.

"Eh, hello? Anybody working here? I would like to sign up for store credit and purchase a few things…"

All of a sudden I hear this ominous, demented, and all too familiar laughter burst out from behind me. I turn around and jump in fright.

"AAAAAHH – FUCK, Iggy, you scared me! Don't sneak up on me like that!"  
"Told you," he says in this sing-songy type voice, with this all-too-satisfied smug look on his face. "Told you so."

"Yes, yes you did, Iggy, you were right all along! This place is great! Stupendous! An oft-overlooked gem! I fucking love it! I'm all refreshed and ready for work now… I just gotta pay for a few things, would you happen to know where the clerk here went?"

"Yes." Iggy laughs this freaky shrieky laugh, as if he knows, but he's not telling me. "Everything here was just too conveniently set up for your own pleasure, wasn't it?"

"Hehe, now that you mention it – HEY!"

Fuck, now I know Iggy was behind the music turning on, and the very songs I wanted coming on, and the store being deserted and all the good shit placed within such easy reach. Not that I'm not glad he did all that, man, that's got to have been the best goddamn fucking I've had in my life! I mean… without a girl of course! But I wanna know… what is the catch to all this?

Iggy answers, again almost as though he is reading my mind, by pulling out his smartphone and showing the video he recorded on it, of ME acting like a rabid animal on the chair, and singing a song I wouldn't be caught dead singing in public, and shoving things up my ass and enjoying it! THE FUCK WAS I HIGH ON?!

Iggy snickers. "Y-you know that drink of mine that you gulped down a little while ago?"

"Yeah, what about it?"

"TEE hee hee… it was supposed to harden me up after I got all soft from the freaking pharma poison."

"And?"

"You reeeeallly are as thick as those bricks you have made a career of smashing up, aren't you?"

"…Oh." I say this at the realization of what Iggy was getting at – that the shit he put in that drink of his was what made me become so unexpectedly horny, and hard, and… other things.

Iggy holds the smartphone screen close to his demented face, his eyes lost behind the glare on his glasses. "I just miiiiight know of just the right purpose for THIS!"

"HEY! GET BACK HERE WITH THAT!" I run after Iggy with my hammer. GRRRR I'll smash that motherfucker like a snail over the sidewalk!

It's not long before I lose the bastard. Fuck I'm beat… huff… puff… I might be close to invincible in close combat, but I'm no match for Iggy's speed. I check my watch.

SHIT I'M LATE FOR WORK!


	3. Wendy's Footwear Fetish

Hi I'm Wendy!

I'm, like, shopping right now, cause I like totally need new shoes, cause I like sold a whole bunch of them at this charity auction last week. They were, like, so last season anyway. But I made tons of Coins for shopping cause people will pay waaaaay more than the original price for shoes that belonged to a celebutante princess such as _moi,_ plus I even autographed a few to raise their value but I stopped after like the first forty cause my hand got too tired. But now I got like lots of money to spend on new shoes! Well, not like all of it, it was a charity auction after all, I had to donate like one percent. See, I can totally be generous you know!

I went to Foot Locker to get the Princess Daisy sportswear collection which are these sneakers with this totally CUTE flower dot print on canvas… HEY if PRINCESS DAISY has her own shoes line WHY DON'T I?! Grrr I'm gonna bring this up later with King Daddy! Anyway, like then I got a new pair of ice skates cause my old pair got ruined when the nasty plumbers went and assaulted me and wrecked my castle for like the bazillionth time a couple months ago. But now I'm at my favorite store, Paymore Shoe Emporium.

It's their grand opening at the brand-new Coconut Mall, and it's, like, even bigger and better than my old favorite location at Toad Town, and they even got a race track!

OMG you will never guess who I ran into passing through the men's section! My brother Ludwig, Kooky von Geekwad, he's like trying on a pair of men's dress shoes. He, like, usually HATES shopping, and he's always picking on me for spending so much on shoes and clothes and makeup and jewelry and perfume and bath supplies and everything else I like, which is, like, so hypocritical, you know, cause he spends waaaaay more on musical instruments, like this cello he just got that cost twenty thousand Coins, and he says his golden piano is worth like fifty times that much!

"Ludwig? Like, what are YOU doing here?"

Ludwig looks at me all snooty and says, "It would appear that I have outgrown the pair of dress shoes that I have been wearing for the past five years."

"FIVE YEARS?! GROSS! Like, how can you stand to wear the same nasty old pair of smelly old shoes all the time for that long?!"

Ludwig says in this like really snooty tone, "It's called getting one's money's worth."

"You're one to talk." I point at the price tag, which is seven hundred Coins. "Your shoes cost as much as mine!"

"That may be so, but the difference here is, I am buying ONE pair, not fifty dozen."

Ugh, BOYS! They just don't understand…

"But I NEED all of these! Summer's coming up and I need at least like eight pairs of flip flops! One for pool parties, one for the beach, one for swim meets, one for picnics, one for the lake, one for cruising, one for shopping, and one for wearing around the castle! And the entire Viva La Diva springtime pink heels collection is on sale for four hundred Coins a pair and I HAAAAAVE to have them!"

I open the five shoeboxes to show Ludwig the SUPER CUTE sparkly pink heels and he scoffs and says "You're buying five pairs of the same color of shoe?"

"Oh, my gosh, are you, like, colorblind? They are NOT the same color! The colors are hot pink, rose, magenta, fuchsia, and special edition Princess Peachy pink!" HEY, why does PRINCESS PEACH get her own signature color pink and I don't? It's the same shade of pink as MY favorite color of pink too, the thieving tramp! Grrr I'm bringing this up with King Daddy later too!

Ludwig laughs all sarcastically as he puts the dress shoes in the box - if I'm not mistaken, they're, like, the same model as the last pair! - and takes it up the register to buy them so he can wear them at every concert and piano recital and other lame fancypants kind of event that he likes for the next five or more years. "My dear sister, sometimes I wonder if your displays of excessive materialism are done for the sake of wearing what you purchase, for fashion or vanity's sake, or simply for the sake of making a purchase."

That nasty Ludwig hurt my poor babies' feelings! I kiss them to make them feel all better. "It's all right my babies, he didn't mean it, that mean old Kooky von Geekypants is all gone now." Next time he says anything I'm gonna show him why the gals at the Women of Racing Organization call me the Beat-down Princess.

Anyway I gotta buy like a few more pairs before I take a bathroom break. I've seen everything here now except the clearance section. Usually there's like nothing good there just icky old shoes from last season, but sometimes I can find something totally cute that got by me last season, or like something that's just right for a certain occasion.

I see like lots of great prices on designer snow boots, but I don't know, they like might be old by next winter. But wait, I'll need them just in case King Daddy takes me on another ski trip to Cool, Cool Mountain this summer! I search the racks until I find a pair of pastel pink ones in a Dragon-Koopa Ladies size 5.

While searching, I, like, omigosh! I find this CUUUUUTE pointed toe Yoshi leather pink flat with a bow over the toe spotted with white pearls and a golden 'EK' in the middle! It like totally matches my May We Please Have Some Couture quilted leather cannage pink handbag, and it's JUST MY SIZE!

"HellOOO BEAUTIFUL! Where were you last season?" I pick her up and stroke her. She's on sale for 199 coins, original price 1179, what a steal! "Where's your twin sister?"

I find one of the same size really fast, but then I realize that I like picked up two LEFT shoes! Grrr that's what I hate about the clearance shelves, they always mix up the shoes and sometimes you just CAN'T find a left and a right of the same size! I find a right one, but it's a Dragon-Koopa Ladies size 11, that's like waaaay too big, like for ladies the size of King Daddy! GRRRRR I might just have to settle for this Koopa Troopa Ladies size 9.5. I try them both on and I can like hardly tell the difference.

Okay I'm like done here for today. I carry my tall tall stacks of shoeboxes up to the register and charge them all off my plastic and have them put in bags. It's like a whole lot to carry but I don't mind cause I'm like really strong from doing this a lot.

I take them on the escalator and ride up to the floor with the restroom. The big roomy one-person restroom with the handicapped sign, it has blow fan dryers instead of paper towels, which are like SOOO annoying if you're like just trying to dry your hands after washing but they're good for other things, and it has an auto-flush toilet that scares the crap out of me even if I like didn't take a crap yet and I'm still sitting on it! Oh and it like also has a Ukiki Care changing station which makes me like think of all the times King Daddy made me change Junior's diaper while we were out before he was potty trained. But it's still like the perfect place to have some special me and shoes time.

I'm like gonna sit on top of the Ukiki Care to do this, it's new and not so pooped and pissed and drooled on by brats yet. The EK beauties are the first on my list. I can tell they are made out of real Yoshi leather because it's made of soft supple little scales that feel almost like smooth skin and because I dated a Yoshi once. I thought they were disgusting creatures at first, but my BFF Birdo told me that Yoshis are great in the bed and she was right! They got a tongue that can go for MIIIIILES and like never finishes! I close my eyes and remember that time me and Yoshi fucked while rubbing my lips over the left one's delicious leathery point, feeling my way up, taking the pearly leather bow in with my tongue, nibbling it a bit, then moving my lips down lower until they go around the toe point. I drool at the taste, just like a live Yoshi.

My vag is like super gooey right now, but once I got the left one all wet I take her tip first through the back door. I like, like to do anal and a bunch of other foreplay first so that my vag is like, REALLY roaring for it once I get to it. I moan and grunt while shoving her up there, squishing my buttcheeks open and shut over her. All of the shoes are going to get a turn up there before I'm done here.

I put the tip of the right one up to my gooey wet clit and rub it slowly along, closing my labia just a little bit over it. "MMMMF!" My labia like love the bow. They like the flappy Yoshi leather, the beady feel of the pearls, even the cool metal of the EK... you know, I like, just realized something. I have no idea what 'EK' actually stands for. O, MG, I like kind of have an idea, but...

I take both shoes and look at their soles. I see the signature of "Emilie Koopa", who is, like, my MOM!

EEEEWWW YUUUCK! I like just committed shoecest! I like had no idea my mother had a shoe line! Who would buy her shoes anyway, she's like old and druggie and so not cool anymore! For all I care she can take her lame ass band called Orifice and shove it!

The shoes are still pretty though, but I like can't stick them all the way up anyway, they're not stilettos after all. But I'm gonna go play with a strappy first. Fun fact: a strappy can double as a strap-on!

My new stiletto strappies are shiny and metallic and they have straps long enough to go all the way around my legs! Well, almost. I take the shoelaces out of the Princess Daisy sneakers and use them to help tie the strappy all the way around.

The strappy is strapped on with the toe sticking upward and the heel sticking forward, ready for a tranny style fuckfest! The first victims shall be the laceless Princess Daisy sneakers.

I use my tail to pull the laces to make the strappy heel go up and down. I drive it through the inside of the sneaker and pick it up until it hangs by the shoe tongue and falls off. I then turn it over - all with the stiletto dick, of course - and jam it into the rubbery sole. GRRRrrrraaaahhh it feels like SOOO satisfying ramming it into the bouncy springy rubber. Even more satisfying since it's a Princess Daisy shoe - I always liked her better than Peach. I mean, not in a lezzy kind of way... except like now maybe. I open up the other box of sneakers and use my dick heel to untie the shoelaces.

All right, now my vajayjay is roaring to eat some heel! I saved the best for last of course - the Viva La Diva heels collection. These heels are longer than your dick - you know who you are.

Which one, oh, which one... the Princess Peach. I'm like too horny right now to drool over the smooth shiny brand-new patent leather finish, so, after strapping myself into the changing station - it's like a bit small for a teen Koopa like me, but I like tight bondage anyway - and I take rightie Peach and jam her right in.

"GRRRrrRRRAAAAAHHH...AAAAAAHHH...AAAAHHH!" I pant and thrust against the restraints, shoving Peach in with my tail so hard it feels like the heel's gonna snap off, but I know it won't because patent leather isn't cheap and flimsy like the faux imitation leather that shoes made in a cheapo Real World China factory are made of.

Here... I... cum...

I scream and I feel like a big pool of liquid come out. I feel like totally and I mean totally finished now, which is like weird because usually I can have like thirty big O's in an hour before I'm done for the day.

I unstrap myself and then I see that I came blood all over the changing station! Omigosh I better clean that up or people are gonna think a baby got battered to death on that thing! Wait a minute, I, like, never came blood before! I'm starting to hurt now, did I like rupture something?

No... it's not that kind of hurt... I like just remembered, my period starts today! I was like so caught up with shoes on the brain that I totally forgot that!

And now I'm stuck in the public restroom with no tampons, no painkillers and a big bloody mess that I can't clean because I... my legs are... cramping up... WAAAAAAHHHH!

But worst of all, my Princess Peach Pink Viva La Diva stiletto heels are all bloody and ruined!

Like, wait, they actually look kind of HOT with all that blood on the heel. Like I just stomped all over my cheating loser ex-bf kind of HOT. Like, I could be starting a new fashion trend here!

I kick my old pumps off and put on these new heels, dry off and soothe my bloody vagina with the automatic hand dryer, and look at myself in the mirrory walls that they got in this swanky new bathroom stall. I like don't even care that I'm nauseous from pain, or that my coochie is leaking blood all over the floor through my now-trashed Victoria's Shell thong, because I look totally FABULOUS!


	4. Iggy's Fancy Private Getaway

**Credit goes to those of you out there who have inspired my take on Iggy - you know who you are ;)**

Hiiii... uuuhhhh... duuurrr... who am I again?

Oh, that's right! I'm Iggy... Iggy uuuummmm... Iggy who? Who? Who dat? WHO DAT?

I'M SO FANCY YA DA DA DA OOOOO... oopsie, wrong Iggy. I'm Iggy um... Iggy uh... Aha! I'm Iggy Koopa.

I'm just now waking up from, uhhhh... I am lying face down in a puddle of drool, so I'm guessing a... pharmacological coma.

I open my heavy, HEAVY eyelids, just enough to squint through my slobbery glasses... ...yep, I'm here in the squishy, squishy room again. Padded walls and everything. I'd be shrieking and tearing the walls up and having a panic attack about this if I wasn't too bloody zombified so to hardly even have able to... to grammar. I don't even remember what I'm in for this time. Bleeeeeegh it will come back to me sooner or later when whatever neuroleptic they shot me up with wears off.

And then I'll just have to play a good little Iggy for three days or so and then they'll let me out. But blast it, they'll probably switch my drugs again or put me on a heavier dose and I'll have to figure out cleverer ways of... of not letting them dope me up... bleh.

This... this drug... tis a new one. I can taste it. Every drug has a flavor to me, but it's the kind of flavor that you can't taste until the pill is swallowed or injected and dissolved in the bloodstream and, urrrrm, there's more to it than that, but I'll spare the details because most people aren't smart enough to understand it like me, teeheeheeheehee...

But this bloody pill is probably the nastiest tasting pill I have ever eaten, and I've eaten lots of nasty pills. Weeeelll, there were these spicy blue pills that were kinda yummy, but they took me off. Figures. And then there were these nasty pills that tasted like psychotic roach poison that triggered me to try and exterminate myself, and you know what happens whenever you try and do that... just in case you don't, you get sent here. To the happy house. Come to think of it, is that what I did this time...? I dunno... oh and the other pills they tried on me... there were pills that were bland, maybe tasted a little like an ash tray, and they had no effect so they took me off those, and then there were all those others whose names escape me, that tasted like everything from sleepy time brain juice to cotton balls and latex gloves and the nasty pink stuff the Dental Guys put on your fangs to make them brittle and spotty and some of them just tasted like... whatever being squished by a Thwomp tastes like, less the blood. The pills look so yummy and candy-colored though that sometimes I forget what they taste like afterward and eat a whole bunch of them and they have to send me back HERE again to have a vacuum shoved up my gullet. The only pills I really liked were the Pez sugar pills that Ludwig gave me, and they worked great too until I learned about this little thing called the placebo effect.

Gaaaaah getting off topic... anyway, this drug tastes like asparagus, aaaand piss that's been saved in a jar for a couple of days - kids, DO NOT try that at home YOU WILL REGRET IT THE SMELL! - aaaand nondescript toxic sludge... aaaand brain juice, but not the sleepytime brain juice, but more like the juice from brains atrophied with Alzheimer's, a bloody tangled mess of beta amyloids, and soaked in formaldehyde... gaaaaag it tastes so bloody wretched I wanna vomit, but my gag reflex is suppressed by the drug's effects so I can't even have a bloody retch as respite from this nausea.

There is also a bit of the acrid tang of roach poison, and like any good nerve poison it will energize you with the mad and the psycho before you drop like a rabid dog. Bloody Underwhere, don't you just love cocktails?

GAHAHAHAHA... I said 'cock' and 'tail'... COCK! GAAAHAHAHAHAAAAaaaa...

Speak of the Devil... you-you ever see the kind of canned meat with the picture of the Devil on it? N-not that, I-I mean another kind of processed meat, not a canned kind, but more like, a, you know... a-a sausage. MY sau...sa...I MEAN SPEAK OF MY BLOODY COCK. Normally you know it has the consistency of a hot dog, but now it's got almost the stiffness of a Slim Jim.

My wiry pencil neck strains under the weight of my head as I lift it out of the puddle of drool to get a better view of my bleak surroundings.

Oh lookie. A pillow. And I don't mean the standard issue ones they got in the bedrooms with the crinkly plastic wrap inside a starched cotton pillowcase, I mean a BIG, PLUSHY BODY PILLOW.

I thrust my arms forward to push my body up... or I try anyway... but it doesn't happen, my arms aren't even moving! THEY'RE LOCKED! HELP I'VE GOT NO ARMS THEY GOT SACRIFICED TO MEDICAL EXPERIMENTS GAAAAAAAAAAHHHH...

I squirm around in terror until I roll over and bend my neck over to make sure my arms are still all right and I find, both to my relief and utter HORROR, that they are bound in a bloody straitjacket.

Well, I'll be a son of... um, that lady on the raisins box... I didn't even know these things were still used anymore! Is this some sort of sick practical joke, or - people tell me to take my meds when I say things like this - an act of fanservice on the author's part for the sake of giving fangasms to all my crazy fanpersons on the other side of the fourth wall? It's true, some people have a fetish for straitjackets, and mental hospitals and padded rooms and bloody chainsaws and anything else that reeks of raving lunacy for that matter. I'd like to see how crazy they'd be for the crazy after being detained at one of these 'happy homes' for a couple of nights teeheeheeheeheeee...

At least my legs are free. But heavy. I try lifting myself elbows free like I'm doing sit ups, buuuut... can't hack it. Curses, I never did care much for gym class. I lay on my back, balanced on my shell's spike tips, which I can feel have been capped with little cushion thingies so the Nurse Guys don't accidentally pokes their eye whilst trying to restrain me. WHY DON'T THEY JUST PUT RUBBER BANDS OVER MY PINCERS WHILE THEY'RE AT IT - oh right, I don't have pincers greeeheeehee but sometimes I do fantasize about getting a double Krunkenberg operation - LIKE A BLOODY LOBSTER AT THE GROCERY STORE!

I roll back over onto my belly and this time I try to push myself up on my back legs, without using my arms. Easy does it Iggy... if a T-Rex can do it, so can you... uuuunnff... YES! Got it. But I didn't use ONLY my back legs if you catch my drift.

I am standing up, here on the cushy floor, all dizzy and... UH OH... I AM STANDING ON THE WALL! GAAAAAHHHH I run down off the wall and smash into the floor. I dig and scrape my hind legs into the cushion, you know like a penguin tobogganing across the snow since it's faster and less awkward for him than standing on twos, until I realize... nope, this is not the floor. This is the wall, I am standing on the ground, trying to climb the wall like I'm some kind of a demented nutcase, grrraaaaahhh get it together Ignatius! Gravity is gravity, and there's no way this place has the technology to fuck with your sense of gravity because you sir are probably the first person in this galaxy to have created a practical working example of electrogravitics technology. I snicker, recalling the look on Ludwig's face when I showed him, why, he was greener than my hair with envy over the fact that I figured it out before he did! I'd pat myself on the back right now if I had a free arm to do it.

I turn around. Eye on the prize Iggy. THAT PILLOW. GRRrrrr... I slobber, and a long, mucousy string drips from my mouth down the height of my lanky body all the way to the floor... What am I waiting for? This boner, chafing against the tight canvas of the crotch-strap, is not going to shrink away on its own...

"GAAAAAAAAAAHHH!" I run after the pillow, teetering unsteadily without arms free for balance like a flipper-tied drunken penguin... uh oh, losing my balance.. so before I fall I take a leap at it.

I fall crotch-first on top of the pillow, my arms raised as far out as this Chinese fingertrap will allow them to stretch to wrap around the pillow and shove it up tighter to my crotch.

I fail to stretch them far enough to get a good wrap around the pillow. It is a big pillow after all. I leap up and down on the pillow madly, irritated that my cock, now as hard as jerky, only has such an amount of wiggle room through this literal chastity belt.

I scream and hoot and howl from this sexual frustration. I must sound like a howler monkey. It's not often that I have this problem when I go to this type of place, see; usually the psycho poisons the Shrink Guy force feeds me make it impossible for me to have a feel in my private at all. HOWEVER, in the rare case that that the drugs don't make your happy place too numb to even get started in the first place, they make it take forever to get a happy enough feel to finish. The ladies love this of course, but it's very frustrating for the male to deal with.

HUFF! PUFF! I pant as I beat my crotch into the pillow, faster and faster, then slower to catch my breath. I can feel little Iggy - Ooooi the irony, cause little Iggy is anything but little - he is jammed up pointed to my face, being beaten snug against my plastron. I can see his bump every time he stretches against the heavy-duty fabric. My butt's going to fall asleep from all this pressure, and poor little Iggy's gonna be black and blue, like my balls... grrrr it would really help if this bloody pillow was more, errrrm... Sexy. Like, you know, one of those vibrating pillows from that place at the mall, or better yet sexy like a toaster, or a hair dryer, or anything with a CPU and electricity in its veins...

I snarl, seizing the pillow in my fangs "You better have chocolate milk inside!" I growl, through drool more profuse than the pre-ejaculate that is wetting up the inside of my fancy jacket. Roy had a punching bag full of chocolate milk before. But I later found out, it only looked like a sack of chocolate milk from the OUTSIDE. I even poked a straw in it. GRRrrrr but this pillow casing is so opaque it might have anything inside! It's rrrrreally hard to bite through... but at least this oral workout is getting me off a teensy bit, I'm a LITTLE closer to climax now. Hence the pre-ejaculate I mentioned earlier? Or maybe that's only sweat. This suit is definitely not a breathable kind of fabric.

I stand up, still hunched over it with pillow in mouth, my pelvis instinctively thrusting toward it even without touching it. I take a break to look at the slobbery mess I made. Judging by the unevenness of the teethmarks... yeeeeeep, I definitely need braces. Teeheeheee, I pity the fool who even tries. Last one who attempted, weeeeelll... he woke up bound and gagged in the supply closet with orthodonture fixed to his fingernails and toenails. GAAAHAAHAA, he should be thanking me for correcting his hammer toes!

That memory actually feels kind of recent... Oh dear... it's all coming back to me now... i-i-if I'm not mistaken, that little episode was the last thing that happened before I blacked out and... aaaand... this happened. Oh dear.. OH DEAR OH DEAR OH DEAR OH DEAR OH DEEEAAARRR! They're going to burst in any minute now and knock me out again so I can't fight it off when they're fitting me with headgear... huffpuffhuffpuffpantpant... Calm down Iggy calm down, you're brilliant, even while drugged, you'll think of something... has to be better than the old left-my-glasses-behind trick... butbutbut can't think of anything until thisthis GROWING problem is taken care of. I resume fellating this pillow.

"GRRRAAAWWWRRR..." I glomp the pillow and roll over back and forth, back and forth, trying to roll against it like a cookie dough roller rolls against cookie dough, and then I stay on my back for a bit... it's a heavy pillow... and my pelvis quivers, then thrusts up from beneath it. GrrRRRRAAAAHHHH! RAAAGE! My blood is so hot now no drug can subdue me! I bend my knees and spring back up against it, flipping the pillow a full 180 degrees like a pancake, my body being the spatula. My spatula... I mean, my body lands on top of it, purposely crotch first, but STILL not...

"GLLLAARRRRGGG..." My tongue spills out under the current of saliva that is coursing forth like the saliva of a person about to vomit. But like I mentioned earlier, I can't vomit. I wonder how long I can keep drooling like this until my body just runs out of fluids and other drool ingredients... if I could only just puncture through the pillow and get the chocolate milk to spill out, the gratification of SWEET RELEASE... heh, heh, yah, that would get me off. But HOW can the bloody pillow be SOOO FUCKING HARD TO PUNCTURE!

I SCREAM... a lightning bolt zaps me. ZAP zapZAP... I think I remember moreTWITCH... this happens TWITCHafter I get an ECT treatment, which I must have gotten this time... TWITCH It usually causes a bit of temporary retrograde amnesia TWITCH... and then the twitching and brainZAPS! It's actually kind of fun, certainly more so than the pills TWITCHZAP!

Something simultaneously occurred to me... there is only one way this pillow can be so bloody impenetrable... it must be an egg case! But not just any egg case... y-you see, I invented a rapid cloning technique where I can make clones of myself grow in as quick as a few hours, and they come in egg cases, you know like sharks, that look kind of like this. Same size, same weight. Why do I clone myself you ask? Weeellll WHY NOT! GWAHAHA problem is, they might have all of my dashing good looks and Promethean IQ, but none of my knowledge, and in the short time it would take to get them up to speed to be suitable laboratory assistants, they, eh, th-they expire... yeeeep, their lifetime is THAT short. Still have to work out a few kinks, but in the meantime, the disposable me's are still good while they last for other purposes, if you catch my drift.

Oi, NOW I remember! Geeheehee I'm not REEEALLY in the nuthouse, I mean seriously, if this is the nuthouse then why are there crayon drawings and pleas for juice on the walls, when crayons are contraband everywhere there except the art therapy room? I'm in this special... HOTEL ROOM to have a date with my lovely little doppelganger. And this fabulous new coat of mine is only the highest in high fashion, of course; if it's not stuffy and uncomfortable, it's simply not FANCY enough. I'M SO FANCY TRALALAAA...

"WHEN-WILL-YOU-BE-READY!" I bounce on top of Mister Eggycase. I put my ear on him... I can hear the blood pulsing... the heart beating... I squeal in delight! I simply cannot WAIT to make the little darling my own for the night... he... He needs my help to get out!

There is only ONE WAY to free him... but first I will have to free me. I smack my face into the slobbery end and I KIIIIIISSSSS him... a good loooong kiss just like the people who kiss on TV, you know when they kiss for so long they forget to breathe and probably faint offscreen but I'm an expert at breathplay soooo the longer I hold it, the BIGGER and HARDER and WANGLIER it gets... wanglier is that a word? Who cares, it's now wagging like a dog's tail. I feel my foreskin against the fabric lining the inside of my coat... jamming it, loosening it up... Its gonna tear, it's gonna break free... It's stretching, little Iggy's now even mobile enough to stroke the eggcase through it...

I unmack the eggycase and exhale with a mighty SMACK. With which I holler giddily and heave my happy zone at it with the urgency of a little boy doing the peepee dance. I stretch my neck skyward, my eyes squint, and a guttural roar escapes from the deepest bowels of my being as I hear and FEEL the deafening CRUNCH of the canvas ripping apart! GAAAHAAAHAAA they sure don't make straitjackets like they used to! I'M FREEEEE! Well, little Iggy is at least.

I let little Iggy nuzzle the slobbery end of the eggcase, he does love the feel of my slick gooey druggie saliva. Its all perforated by my snaggly fangs, so it should be a good place to start banging my clone open.

I crouch over that end and stretch my elbows as far out as I can, up to about halfway up the length of the eggcase. I am exceedingly flexible - ACH! I think I pulled my triceps! After I have dug the elbows tight into the sides of the eggcase, and sunken my fangs into its skin again for good measure, I shove it inward, and my lower spine curls upward, my hiney raised in the air, only to curl back down and jam it right back in again. And again. And again and again andagainandagain... WEEEE HEE HEEEE! GIDDYUP GIDDYUP WAHOO! This brings back memories of those kiddie rides you drop a Coin in to ride at the front of the grocery store maybe this is why King Daddy never lets me ride those anymore!

Any second now he will be free and I'll probably still be hard because of nasty meds making it take FOREVER like I mentioned.

BRAIN LIGHTNING! The brain lightning is another side effect of electroconvulsive therapy, it sometimes even wakes me up at night and it makes me feel happy zone happies in normally non happy zone places like my brain and all over my nervous system! The lightning also changes things... like now I hear a tune. La da daaaa it's an electronic tune full of electric happy notes! BRAIN LIGHTNING! Now the tune sounds like a piano... ...Ludwig...? Are you in here too? Who did you attempt to murder this time...? BRAIN LIGHTNING! Oh, it's just you, Piano. That's some strong use of notes, I see. Strong... TOO STRONG! BRAIN LIGHTNING! I DON'T WANNA GO TO THE UNDERWHERE HEEEEEELLLLP PIANO QUIT TORTURING MEEEEE! BRAIN LIGHTNING! TORTURE, SWEET, SWEET TORTURE! WAHAHAHAHA Iggy, you incorrigible masochist, you... BRAIN LIGHTNING! That was... that was you talking, my dear duplicate? And it was YOU singing, not the Piano... tell me again, sing it one more time...?

"You must dance, fancy Iggy. DANCE!"

I... must dance? "But what kind of dance my delightfully decisive double?"

"You must dance the safety dance

You can do it, fancy pants!

Double figure eight spin go!

Free me fast and feel me BLOOOOWWWW..."

I like this clone! He rhymes AND promises fellatio... in return for doing a... safety dance... gaaaaah that sounds like a lame dance for people in straitjackets without helmets in a padded cell at the psych ward! Certainly he means my specialty, which is to breakdance!

I lay on the back of my shell and drag him up over my tummy with my mouth and I try to spin around on the back of my shell... about the only breakdance move I can bust out with no arms... but I can't quite spin around... too much friction because of the cushy spike covers!

I prop other Iggy to the wall and rub my back against him until the cap thingies fall off. Then I try again, and this time I can actually spin like a top on the pointy tip of my central spike.

DIZZY! I looooove being dizzy! The colors in this room change, yellow then blue then purple then green then red... please go away red... then BLACK. With little Starmen in the sky! But their eyes are RED. Dafuq red I told you to go away! Why are all the stars cut in half? Except for the stars that are upside down? That's a funky rule... but every thing smells like druggie smell. I mean DELIGHTFULLY druggie smell! You know, the kind of drugs that you can smell on Saturday mornings when you get up at the crack of dawn to watch those cartoons that drip with succulent nostalgia and people with blue hair that you haven't seen in AGES! The kinds of drugs that the shrink never wants to give out because they are just plain meanies because you just KNOW they have hordes and hordes of the good stuff! Sometimes I even buy it off from Larry because it somewhat counterbalances the nasty effects of the antipsychotics... gaaaaaah I would a-ap-appreciate it if you would keep quiet about that, K? K. No, not Dr. K. Not Special K. Not the cereal, nor the... eeeheehee never mind.

And then I randomly decide to FLIP... I flip spinning in the air, I positively FLUTTER, while the pillow lands on the floor... I land on it, bouncing my cock into it WHEEE... and then little Iggy pushes back this time with a wangly - bloody hell if it's not a word I'm taking the liberty of word coinage - little springing jerk and I rise up in SLOOOWW motion... see that, I am sooo clever I can even control gravity with my mind! And this goes on a few times until I flip around like a cat dropped from a building and nail it with my midmost spike.

YEEEEE! I busted the thing open, and now chocolate milk is bursting out everywhere! My weenie too - little Iggy is finally letting loose! Only a dribble though, yeah the drugs make for a slow finish too. Hrrrrmmm, maybe I can finish faster if I bend over and... suck myself off. In case you haven't noticed, I've got quite the oral fixation... put anything in my mouth... get referrals at school for biting people and things...

Not the best. I was expecting chocolate milk, but instead I taste like the poison medication they put me on. Waaaiiit... what is that I hear...?

"May we please have some?"

"May we please have some?"

CLONE IGGY! I forgot... he promised, but... isn't he all turned into chocolate milk right now? That's right, the original GLOM made other me's out of sand, but the GLOM 2.0 makes them out of chocolate milk! GAHA can't believe I forgot to mention that... But darling Clonie, or whatever's left of him, of course you may have some!

I feel him drinking it up like a baby drinking a teat through the chocolate milky remains of the egg case. I can't see his face... they NEVER let me see the faces... but he bloody well knows how to give a good BLOOOOWWWWOWOWOOWOWOWOW...

"OHOHOHOHOH... HOLY AZALEA SWEET MOTHER OF HOLLY!" The finish is slow but oh so sweet. I plop back over the torn up eggcase and take a leak on it. It feels like a gallon, since I've been holding it for as long as I was hard, and everybody - well, every MALE body knows that you can't take a piss when it's hard!

Weird, there is no smell of chocolate milk, just all this stuff that looks like Beanie Baby guts, you know um PVC pellets... AW MAN those are DEAD packing peanuts! Packing peanuts are delicious, did you know you can dissolve them in water and drink it! Or at least you could before they changed the recipe...

And then I realize that they are all spilling out of the eggcase! YOU MEAN TO TELL ME IT WAS ONLY A BEAN BAG PILLOW! I was sooo hoping for chocolate milk or a clone or a chocolate milk clone! This is another one of those moments when people tell me to take my meds, as though I weren't already FORCED on them, and the head healers have names for it such as 'delusions without insight' but COME ON I'm not THAT crazy!

"Iggy? You can come out now, it's mealtime-"

WHO SAID THAT? I snarl and reach over to grab my pillow - MY PILLOW! - but my arms are still strapped up and I slip on my own pee pee and my glasses fly off before I fall face first into the bean bag guts.

It's just a staff opening the door. I can't see his face because no glasses. I hear him sigh and grumble something about getting me cleaned up and I hear him shut the door and go get janitorial supplies and more manpower. He's gonna NEED it if he wants to get ME in the shower. Then again maaaayybeee not... ZZZZzzzzzz...


	5. Roy's Manly Shower

Sup. The name's Roy.

I'm cruisin' home in my hot new Badwagon. King Dad bought it for me as a graduation gift if I agreed to take a few of them classes at the local JC. I'm real stuck with this math homework for this prealgebra course, it's killin' me, and I'm not doing so hot in this developmental English class either. I'd ask Kookbrains to help me out, but he's off at some fancy schmancy university for brainiacs in da Real World. Maybe I'll ask Four Eyes... aww, damnit, that's right, little psycho got tooken off to da freakhouse again.

But on the plus side I'm havin' a ball with this audio engineering course. Thinkin' 'bout gettin' my associate's and then startin' my own music business... I can see it now, 'Roy's Smooth Sounds' on ALL da billboards. Got my headphones on right now, listenin' to the Grease soundtrack. An oldie, but a goodie.

I'm also takin' a weight training course, since I gotta take a gym course to keep in shape, of course. Da weight room is all rank from man odor though, most of it mine, cuz I'm da hardest workin' out manliest man in da whole class. Usually I take a nice cool shower after gym, but today, well whaddya know? All da pipes was busted and da showers just wasn't working. So imma drive home and imma drive there fast cuz I don't want nobody droppin' dead from my man stench out on the freeway here.

Imma almost home now. We don't got great plummin' either, but that's because ol' Pops don't know no better than to hire them Mario bros. They always be whippin' da old man's tail like nobody's business cuz they just don't get along. They ain't too fond of me neither, they always be tearin' my castles and my airships down so I can't even have nowhere to move out of Pop's castle for long.

Maybe I'll go check and see what's up on da radio. I put my headphones off and turn on da station with all da hot new stuff and that song I like about the blurry lines or whateva comes on. I been gettin' heat for havin' this song as my ringtone by some feminazi cunt at school, she be sayin' it perpetu... propa... duuurrr some shit about rape culture. If she don't shut her whore yap up imma introduce her to some rape culture...

"UH HUH! UH HUH!" Imma jammin', swingin' my bumper, knocking over a few folks' trash cans cuz it's garbage day here in Dark Land. Ha ha. Maybe I'll run over a coupla animals before I get home... dang, ain't much roadbait on da streets today.

I park it in King Dad's dungeon and now Imma head my stank ass on up to da tub. I whistle dat song on my way up to da only workin' bathroom in this whole great big palace. See, I told ya King Dad's plumbin' is shit. Maybe has sumthin' to do with our castle being parked on top of a volcano. Who's the genius that came up with that bright idea?

AWWW FUCK MAN! The bathroom's occupied. Holy muddaoffuck I hope to high water it ain't Wendy. She takes FOREVER and uses up enough water to flood da Jolly Roger Bay!

I bang on da door. "YO! HURRY UP IN THERE OR I'M GONNA BUST DA DOOR DOWN AND KICK YO ASS INTO NEXT TUESDAY!"

I hear Larry's wimpy little voice in there. "All right, all right man, geez no need to throw a hissy fit yo."

He opens up and I see that he's all dressed up in some loser jacket with Doc Marts and - DA FUCK! HE'S WEARIN' SHADES! OH NO HE DIDN'T!

I grab him by his greasy ass Mohawk and bring his face to mine. "Listen here, punk, da cool shades look is MY LOOK. Ya got dat? MINE. Ain't nobody in this castle allowed to be wearin' those except for Roy here. HAVE I MADE MYSELF CLEAR?"

"Yes, yes, yehehehehessssehehehehe ...crystal yo. Anything, anything bro, just - P.U.! Get yo stank ass in the tub ASAP!"

I bitchslap da punk shades offa his punk face and kick his punk keister outta da bathroom. Dat punkass sure made a mess in here. I don't even wanna know what this gunk on Ludwig's towel is, but I'm sure happy it ain't on mine.

I pull back them curtains, they're all girly and pink cuz Wendy insisted. I don't mind pink too much, gotta problem with that? Real men wear pink yo! You know what else real men do?

I look under da sink to take a peek at da bath goods. Da basket full of Lemmy's bath toys is in da way. I toss it out and dump da toys all over da floor. HA HA. I stomp on da rubber duck and he squeaks in pain.

Then I take a look at Wendy's basket full of bath goods. Seems she bought some brand spankin' new ones at dat new mall up by da beachy place. Noki shell shaped soaps, freesia scented bubble bath, dat Fairy Princess by Lavender scented bath gel, Delfino papaya scented foot scrub, Pianta Mitchell coconut scented shampoo and matching conditioner, you know da really expensive salon quality shit - HA HA HA DUMB BITCH SHE DON'T EVEN GOT NO HAIR! - a pink one of dem scrunchie scrubby thingies, um, loofahs I think they're called, and some of dem bubble lookin' thingies filled with oil... eh, bath beads.

Yah, you got dat right. Real men love girlie bath supplies. DON'T LAUGH OR I'LL BEAT YO PUSSY FACE IN!

I'm just gonna borrow ALL of these without permission, since Wendy spent more than she was supposed to without King Dad's permission. HA. HA. Now for some manly 'me' time.

Oh yeah! Who da man? You da man! I take off my boxers and pose in front of the mirror. Look at dat sexy tush! I slap my rock-hard ass and look at dem tight little balls jigglin'... HOLD UP I din't mean to say little cuz they ain't you know THAT little... but my dong IS huge I can tell you dat right now. WUT? WHADDYA LAUGHIN' AT? It's no shower, but it's one HELL of a grower! Ask any chick I ever rocked da bedroom with, aftawards she be black 'n blue 'n bleedin' like it's dat time of month for a week!

I turn da water on. Da water takes forever to get hot cuz like I mentioned before da plumbing sucks. The old man's got this huge ass castle on top of a volcano for crying out loud it shouldn't be runnin' cold like this! Sometimes it runs too hot and sometimes it don't run at all and I gotta pull da little string at da showerhead to make it run again. HUGE ASS CASTLE... only ONE working bathroom. ONE! Not countin' da master bath but only King Dad gets to use that.

So I feel da shower water with my finger until it gets all nice and warm and then I step in. AAAAHHH nothin' like a hot shower after a hard day! Well sometimes I take a cold shower but not now cuz I wanna relax right now and cold water ain't good for relaxing...

Ma shades get all foggy from the heat. I wear ma shades even in da shower. Why? Cuz I can't be seen without my shades, that's why! I know I ain't got nobody whose gonna see me in da shower today, but you know what? What's even better than a hot shower, is a hot shower with a hot babe. Ohohohoh yeeeeaaaahhhh...

I can feel ma weenie hardin' up just thinkin' bout da night I did it with Birdo. Her blow jobbin' snout was just da thing to make my anaconda come slither out of hidin'.

Imma go try out this conditioner. For da price it's worth, it better be good. I dump a big blob of it on my hand and rub my hands together and rub it over my bald head and under ma armpits and then I put a coupla fingers up my butthole. I LIKE A GOOD CLEAN BUTTHOLE WHAT'S DA MATTER WITH DAT? I DON'T TAKE IT UP DA ASS IF THAT'S WHATCHA THINKIN'!

And then I squeeze another glob and rub it over ma balls and ma D. It's smoother and creamier and not so greasy as da cheapo conditioners.

But sometimes tho you need a lil' grease. And dat's where these bath beads come in!

They're champagne colored in a plastic tube with a pink gift bow on top. I remember being a lil' tyke when my Momma took me out to da drug store and picked up a coupla those, guess she wanted a nice bath or somethin'. I was sittin' in da cart in da baby seat cuz' I was still lil' enough back then and I wanted them so I grabbed da package away from da cashier and da package split open and da balls went spilling out everywhere. People were steppin' on da oily beads and slippin' and fallin' flat on their asses and I was pointin' and laughin'. My Momma beat my ass good when I got home. I gotta hand it to Momma, she taught me how to beat ass like nobody's business.

I rip da bow off and dump da bath beads into my hand and put them to my face and smell them... aaaaahhhh. They got dat baby shampoo smell. They be meltin' under da hot shower water so I better use 'em fast!

I rub da oily bubbles over my chubbie. Ah, this oil would make for a sexy hot oil massage, I got good hands ladies if you wanna have some oil rubbed into dat back. I take more out of da tube and push da bubbles up to my dick's head and shove it in... pop da bubbles with ma D. Da mo' bubbles my D pops, the bigger my D gets till it's stretched out da whole five meters.

Time fo' a dicksercise. HA HA. How do you think I get my little D to grow so big? If you wanna stretch it long and hard, you gotta WORK IT! Penis is a muscle just like any other muscle you know! You gotta strength train it, just like you gotta work yo arm muscles and yo leg muscles and yo ab muscles and yo pec muscles and even yo brain muscle... I did three math problems in prealgebra class today and I even got them right so don't say I don't work out my brain muscle.

I spin it around... and around... and around... and around... like a record baby HAHA. I hang da loofah off of it and then I can scrub it around... and around... and FUCK I wish I had a hot girl in here so I could scrub her back around and then scrub a few other places if you know what I mean.

I reach into da basket and pull out da Fairy Princess bath gel. By Lavender, d'aaaawwwww Ludwig's little girlfriend made a bath gel to go with her perfume line. Not dat I wear it of course, I only wear sexy men's cologne, I just like da smell of girly products, I mean isn't dat why girlies use dem, to smell nice to get da men they want?

It gets all bubbly in da loofah as I scrub it against da shower wall. Bout time this shower got a good cleaning. OK scrubby time's up I wanna THRUST it into something!

I give myself a quick bubbly handy with da loofah, and then I scrub da rest of my body until I'm all sexy clean.

And then I notice da tub's fillin' up! Fuck man somethin' must be cloggin' up da shower drain! Can't be hair cuz I don't got none, I ain't even got pubes... cuz I keep 'em clean shaven, of course. Sometimes even waxed with da stuff Wendy uses to wax her bush. And her mustache. HA. HA. HA!

I hope it ain't da bath beads... No those would melt in da water, but whattabout da package? Oh, there it is, it's floatin' in da tub water.

Ya know what this calls for?

I push down da little policeman thingy on top of da bath pipe and then da water stops comin' outta da shower nozzle and goes out this bath faucet instead. And then I break out da BUBBLE BATH!

It's pink, but it smells like white freesia! They got it wrong, there's a difference between the smell of white freesia and pink freesia ya know!

How do I know that, ya ask? BECAUSE REAL MEN KNOW SHIT LIKE THAT! Don't be givin' me no lip about it cuz yo too pussy ass to know yo flowers and scents and what color flowers be smellin' like what!

But it don't matter cuz white freesia is sexier anyway. When da bubbles grow into a big mountain I shape it into a giant ass and READY SET THRUST! But it turns out to be more of a bubbly belly flop and I land floatin' atop my belly in da bath water, my dick just long enough to reach da bottom of da tub.

Until da water fills up more... HOLY SHIT my D ain't even as long as da tub is deep! MUST STRETCH... HHHHNNGGGGG... There, got it.

But now da tub's overflowin! I shut da faucet off and everything look so bright and I realize, WHERE MA SHADES?

I dig through da water until I feel them and I put them back on. Better, they're all clean now. Tub time's over, but I still haven't finished. HA. HA HA. HA...

I can't leave a mess like this or King Dad will roast me! I gotta fix da tub... how to get da clogging of whatever shit that is outta da hole... HA HA. I said 'hole'. HA HA HA...

DUH! Dat'a be killin' two birds with one stone! I did dat once, just to watch them die. HA.

Aright peeps, I gotta confession... I ain't that great of a swimmer. But I gotta hold my breath and dip underwater in order to reach this hole and go down and deep into it... Gotta take a deep breath... c'mon, breathplay is sexy, amirite?

I take a deep breath and say "MARCO!" and dive under. Man I wish I had a babe to come up and say "POLO!"

I can still see a lil' bit cuz I got air trapped under ma shades like goggles. But da water is too damn murky from bubbles and washin' my filthy ass so I gotta feel for it... poke around for the hole... AH! There it is!

I shove my body hard against da water pressure to try 'n get it down and deep in there... ah... AH... AAAAAHHHH... I think I loosened it... oh man da drain is sucking me off... hoh boy I haven't driven it into a hole this sweet since I held Birdo at knifepoint for a BJ... da back door was pretty tight, but nothin' like dat pipe mouth of his... hers... THE FUCK! I'M NOT GAY ARITE FOR REAL I DIN'T KNOW SHE WAS A DUDE AT DA TIME! Heshe totally wanted it anyway!

Hoshit da drain is rapin' me... It's suckin' me down DOWN DOWN... my whole body's gonna get sucked down it, or maybe da plumber's gonna hop out and imma have to kick his ass back to whatever gutter he came from...

I'M COMIN' DOWN THE HOLE... I mean, CUMMIN' DOWN THE HOLE... and the drain even sucks my softie back tryin' to stretch da lil' guy out... but it's now weak enough dat I can push myself out. Da water's sinking down da hole, which is good. Now I just gotta put all this stuff all nice and neat back under da sink...

"HURRY UP! YOU'VE BEEN IN THERE FOR LIKE AN HOUR! I GOT HELLA CRAMPS AND NO KOTEX AND I LIKE NEEEEEED A HOT WARM BUBBLE BATH!"

Wendy's bangin' on da door and seems like she's been bangin' on it for quite a while. Dunno how I didn't hear her sooner since dem bangles on her wrists make her door bangin' even louder and more annoyin' than Morton's mouth!

"HOLD YO HORSES I GOTTA GET CLEAN TOO!" What to do with da bath beads, no way she's gonna not know I used some... I pack away all of the bath toys and put it with the bath toys. HA HA Lemmy would be too easy to pin da blame upon.

I splash on some aftershave so she can't smell how much like girlie bath supplies I smell like and I'm off. I dry off and put me on a clean pair of boxers and grab me a beer and a bag of pork rinds and sit down to watch the game on da big living room TV - ew, what's this crap, only Ludwig watches this shit and he ain't even here, where's the remote - ah, there it is. Sweet, ain't nobody else hoggin' da big TV tonight. I can do my homework later. Or tomorrow. Or next week.

Later I hear a girlie shriek from da bathroom. Not sure whether to laugh... or run for my life.

Wendy comes out of the shower with a shower cap on covered with these colorful melty looking blobs that kinda look like them seashelly Noki soaps... uh oh. And I'm pretty sure dat milky gunk ain't shampoo!

BLASTED PLUMBING! Don't put nothing down da drain you don't want comin' out on da next person that takes a shower!

I better beat it or my ass is grass... next time I think I'll borrow da kiddie soaps and bubble baths. And toys. Maybe Junior's teething ring will make for a good cock ring.

FOR THE LAST TIME... REAL MEN AIN'T AFRAID OF NO KIDDIE SUPPLIES!

AND REAL MEN AIN'T AFRAID TO RUN FOR THEIR LIVES!


	6. Lemmy's Got a New Toy to Play With

Hi, my name's Lemmy!

I'm really bored right now, since nobody is around to play with me right now. Ludwig went away to university, Roy's off taking summer classes at junior college, Morton's got a job now, Wendy's on a vacation cruise, King Dad is on the set of Mario Party... um, I forget which season they're on now... BJ is always with King Dad, since he's King Dad's favorite, and Iggy's at the happy house again.

Last time Iggy and I got to play with each other we were digging into Ludwig's stuff in the dungeon lab and we were eating his special chocolates and we got into an argument over what one of the chocolates is called. I said it's called a George Washington candy because it has a George Washington guy on the wrapper and he said it was called a 'cocoloconocomoco', I think because that's the word he hears in his brain whenever he looks at a George Washington guy. Ludwig always had a different name for them... a Mo... something I forget...

If I had known that Iggy would be taken to the happy house the next day, I would have been nicer and let him call it whatever he wants.

Oh wait, Larry's still here, I forgot! But I can tell that he's going to be leaving soon to do stuff that he doesn't want me to tell anybody else about.

I hear the doorbell ring. It must be the mail. I'll go get it I guess.

Let's see, we've got these stupid bill papers that King Dad always complains about, oh, and there's this package, addressed to... Larry Koopa. Aw, shoot, nothing for me. Oh well.

Hey, I hope Larry doesn't mind if I open his package for him! I LOVE opening presents!

I rip the box open and it's a book. The title says it's about fifty different shades of the color gray.

Wow, that's an awful lot of colors of gray! I only have two or three different colors of gray in my crayon box and it's the sixty-four pack with the sharpener! If fifty of those sixty-four crayons were gray, I would have... um... only about fourteen colors that are not gray... wow, that would be one emo crayon box.

With a title like that, maybe this book is a coloring book!

I dig my claw into the plastic wrap to rip it off so I can look inside but then Larry walks up behind me and says, "HEY! What are YOU doing opening MY package that I ordered to be delivered to ME?"

"Um... uh..." I am a bit nervous. Larry seems really upset. "I-I-I just thought you would ap-app-appreciate it if I did you a favor by opening it for you."

"Yeah yeah, well, don't you know it's illegal to open other people's mail without permission, you dumbass? Take it from somebody who's been to juvey twice for it yo."

"Would you have let me open it if I asked nicely?"

"Hahaha, NO." Larry grabs the book from me.

"Oh, but I like opening presents, even if they're not mine! What kind of book is it? Is it a coloring book?"

"...Yeeeeaaah. Hehe. A coloring book." Larry says this in that tone he makes when he's thinking some nasty private joke to himself. All I can tell is that he is glad to get this book now and he has been upset for the past few days about the package not arriving yet.

He goes back to take it to his room, and right now he is thinking about leaving soon to sell his special candies to make more money. I tried one of his funny candies once. It didn't taste very sugary, but it made me think really happy thoughts and I felt really good and happy, even happier than sugar makes me. But then I tried another one that made me feel funny and sick and have scary thoughts and see scary things that weren't there, like the kinds of things Iggy tells me about. So I learned not to eat candies if I don't know where they came from.

I wait for Larry to leave so I can take a peek in his coloring book. While waiting I sharpen my crayons so that I can maybe color in it while he's gone. Maybe he'll be reallly happy if I can color the pictures really nice for him! I can color a lot better than I did a a little kid!  
Maybe I should ask first, or maybe not, because I know that if I ask, he will say no.

There are some books that aren't really coloring books, but they forget to put the color inside them. Like these comic books that open up backwards that Iggy likes to read. I can't read them because the words are written with Japanese letters. Iggy doesn't mind if I color the pictures for him. But one time I colored some triangles and circles and these squiggly things in Ludwig's math book and he got angry at me.

Ok, now Larry is gone. I sneak up to his room, it has a sign on the door that says "THIS MINE IS MINE" and the door is locked with this complicated kind of security system with number buttons.

I've seen the secret number in his head before. It's "069". I punch that in and the door opens.

Larry's room has a messy bed, a box full of magazines about cool stuff, a bunch of video games and video tapes and CDs like this one CD with the F finger on it, dirty boxers and other clothing lying around, tennis racquets, tubes with tennis balls inside, spiky potted Piranha plants growing on his window, posters with pretty women and rock stars and rappers on the walls, and a minifridge with dirty word magnets stuck to it. The whole room smells filthy, but in a cool, comforting kind of way. Larry has such a cool teenage boy room. I'd like to have a cool teenage boy room like his one day, but I'm not sure I feel ready for it now. People at school tell me I'm 'developmentally delayed', which must be the reason why. Maybe next year or the year after.

The book I'm looking for is on top of a pile of Playkoopa magazines. They have pictures of pretty ladies on the cover. I take the coloring book and I open it but all I see are BORING WORDS! Larry lied! What a disappointment! It's just like that book that Wendy likes to read with the picture of a red apple on the black cover.

Hmm, maybe I should try reading it... but it's an awful lot of pages, and the story looks so... boring... I toss it aside. Maybe I should go look to see if he has any real coloring books in here.

I look in one of the Playkoopa magazines. I open up one of the big folded up pictures, and I see that the pretty lady on it... IS NAKED! EEEWWW! You're not supposed to look at women when they're shell-off naked! Gross!

I look under Larry's bed. Maybe he has some fun baseball cards to look at or something... Hmm what's this?

I pull it out. It's some kind of floppy plastic thing. It has a little hole with a lid on the side like the one you see on beach balls, which means this has to be blown up.

I'm good at blowing stuff up. Um, not in the same way as Iggy; he's good at blowing things up to make them explode! I mean good at blowing air into stuff. I may look little and weak, but I really have strong lungs! I need to in order to blow up my fun balls that I like to play on when they start to get flat!

I'm sure Larry would actually be happy if I tried to blow this thing up. After all, he has weak lungs, and gets out of breath just playing tennis for a few minutes. He probably wasn't able to blow it up and passed out and fainted before he could ask for help.

I blow it all the way up... I wonder what it looks like when blown up. Maybe it's a fun beach ball?

When I finish blowing it up, I find out it's a big doll! Like a Barbie doll, it even has big boobies! I like boobies. When I was little I wanted boobies so I stuffed toilet paper into my shell to pretend that I had boobies and it made King Dad mad at me for pretending I'm a girl. I think Wendy once stuck toilet paper in her panties to pretend she had a weenie as well.

Wow, I didn't know Larry likes to play with dolls! I thought Wendy was my only other sibling who liked to play with dolls - I used to have tea parties with her dolls when I was little! But she didn't have any dolls as big as this one!

I'm now going to look at his video tapes. I bet he has a ton of cool teenage boy movies. I see this one tape with a blank box that has nothing but an 'X' written in marker on it.

Ooooh, how mysterious! I wonder what kind of movie this is! I gotta see! I take the tape out and put it in Larry's VCR.

It's a movie with a naked man and a naked lady in it! GROSS! But I'm a little bit curious still. I mean, Larry really seems to like looking at naked people, maybe if I be brave and watch I will find out what the big deal is.

The woman is on all fours on the floor. The man holds his weenie out, which is a really big weenie, and he sticks it in the woman's butt.  
GROSS! He could get germs that way! The woman screams like she's in pain. But it sounds almost like a happy kind of pain. Is he going pee pee in her butt?

Now that I think of it, I've seen images kind of like these in Larry's mind before. He thinks about looking at girls naked a lot, I think to do this kind of thing to them!

I don't get it, what's so great about sticking your pee pee parts inside a girl? Girls are not toilets! Maybe it feels good? I know my weenie feels good when I touch it and play with it, but King Dad gets mad at me whenever he sees me doing it. It's like a very forbidden kind of feel-good feeling.

Maybe it feels even better if I stick it inside a girl's butt?

I should try it out! But I don't have a girl with me right now. Oh wait, I have a girl doll! Maybe I should try seeing how it feels to stick it inside her butt!

The inflatable girl doll has a tight hole where her butt should be. I wonder, do girls pee out of the same hole they poop from? I try to stick my weenie in, but my weenie is too soft and it only squooshes against the tight hole. The guy on the video had a really hard weenie! I've made my weenie hard from playing with it before, maybe I just have to play with it before I do this type of thing.

I rewind the video to see how the guy made his weenie hard. I see the woman shaking the weenie with her hands and then sticking it in her mouth. Now that's REALLY GROSS! She doesn't know where his filthy pee pee hole has been! She might have a sore throat and give him a sore weenie from sucking on it!

I play with my weenie with my hands. This would be easier if I had my ball to bounce on top of. Or maybe I can try bouncing on top of this lady. Her butt looks pretty comfy to bounce upon.

I sit on her bootie and bounce on it up and down and up and down and say "whee-ee-ee-ee-eeeee!" My weenie is starting to feel really good now, but still not hard enough. Maybe I need liquid. Maybe like my spit? I don't have a sore throat so my spit shouldn't make my weenie sick.

I spit in my hands and rub it over my weenie and then rub it more over her butt. I spit up more and more because it's not wet enough and my mouth gets really dry from spitting up so much. I keep on doing this until my weenie gets stiff enough to move on its own.

Now I stick it in the girl's butthole. Now what? I turn the video back on for advice.

The man shoves himself in and out of the woman. She moans every time he does this.

So I do the same. But it's a bit hard to push and pull it in and out because it's not slick and wet enough and the girl isn't moaning so I moan for her. I feel like moaning too. The guy in the video looks really tense and he is grunting as he does it so it must be hard work for him too.

And then the woman makes a really loud and happy scream and I see some liquid spill out. Real women must be a lot more liquidy than these dolls. I need some liquid!

Maybe I can use some of Larry's slick cool hair products. I pick the shampoo, because shampoo makes the most bubbles and I think it would be fun to make bubbles while having happy weenie time with the blow up lady!

I use a whole lot of it, and I add water from the watering jug he has next to his coin safe. See, what a COOL room! The girl's tushie gets all frothy and bubbly and it feels really clean and really dirty at the same time what I'm doing.

I watch the video and then I see the man take it out to go pee all over the woman's face. EEEEWWWW! Except it doesn't really look like pee, it looks all goopy and white, almost like the shampoo I'm using. Wait, I think I've made that kind of liquid before! But it only comes out if I have a really REALLY happy time, and after it comes out my weenie can't feel good to play with anymore for a little while, so I don't want the goop to come out too soon.

And then the next scene on the video shows a man going on top of a woman's tummy while giving her the weenie and they get all kissy kissy goo goo on each other while doing this! And I thought just kissing was gross! No wonder King Daddy sometimes covers up my eyes when we watch movies where a man and a woman kiss each other!

I turn the lady over and try to reach up to kiss her while bouncing up and down on her with my weenie still in her butt but I am not tall enough to reach that far so I have to take my weenie out to climb up to kiss her. I put my hands on her boobies and squeeze them but I try not to pop them with my claws. This feels really exciting like a forbidden kind of excitement because I know King Dad would be upset because that's usually a rude thing to do to women unless you're a little baby who drinks milk from the boobies but I don't remember ever drinking milk from my mom's boobies.

I'm not sure I even remember my mom...

And then I see another scene on the video where they are turned upside down on each other with their mouths on each other's privates. There are an awful lot of ways to do this, aren't there? I almost try this but then I remember how nasty and soapy I made her bottom. Maybe I should have used chocolate milk instead.

I climb up to her face and kiss her. It reminds me of kissing my favorite ball. Since my little body is too far away from her butt now I stick my weenie in between her boobies. Her boobies look kinda like a butt after all. Hmm, maybe I can turn around and lick her boobies and put my weenie in her mouth!

I turn around and stick my face in her boobies. This feels really comforting and exciting at the same time. I wish I got to suck boobies when I was a baby! I have my head stuck in between them while I hug them with my arms out on their sides and squeeze my head tighter between them. This makes a buzzy feeling in my head, kinda like the really good buzzy feeling in my weenie. I stick it inside her mouth, which also has a tight hole in it instead of just being painted on. I squirm and wiggle on top of her and it feels bouncy like a water bed! i pull my head out from in between her boobies, which is kind of hard because I got it stuck pretty tight in between there, and I lick her nipples and suck on them a bit. There's no milk in there, chocolate or white. I wonder if my mommy's milk tasted like chocolate?

I try to pull my weenie out of her sucker mouth. It's pretty tight and hard to get out of there. It comes out with a SMACK like if you rip a toy lizard with a suction cup for a belly off of a window. I had a toy lizard like that before, I named him StickyTummy.

When it comes out my butt gets tossed upward and I do a flip and I land feet first on her boobies. My weenie now feels good enough, I think playing with the boobies did it. Now I'm going to peepee the goopy stuff out on her face like on the video.

I bounce up and down on the boobies a few times. Wheeee! This is almost more fun than bouncing on my ball! One, two, three...

The goopy peepee stuff comes out all over her face and there's a lot of it, even more than there was in the video! Now I know why people tell me I have big balls. Other than the last time the mustache men came and beat me up even after Kamek did a spell to make my bouncy ball really big and that was LOTS of fun! But playing on this dolly has been even funner!

Now my weenie shrinks because it's all done with happy time for now. Just like you get sick of some things when you've done them for a while, but I'll probably be able to do it again tomorrow.

Maybe I can find a REAL girl to do it with! Girls are like the perfect thing for playing with your peepee parts with! They might not want to though, Larry has been up set a lot lately about girls not wanting to go out with him so I guess they don't want to play the peepee parts game. Or maybe we can take turns and I can have them stick their peepee parts up my butt! Oh wait, girls don't have weenies, so maybe I will have to have a boy do it with me. Like maybe Iggy. We used to play with each other's weenies when we were little, since playing with your own doesn't feel as good just like you can't tickle yourself, you have to be tickled by another person. It was our own special time and we never told anyone because King Dad would have gotten mad and put us in the dungeon for it.

I hear Larry coming home. He seems like he's happy with the money he made selling his special candies and also his special powder that looks like powdered sugar but you eat it through your nose instead of your mouth and also his special shots which he says feel good instead of painful like the doctor's shots.

He screams like a little girl when he sees me in his room.

"Hey Larry! I blew up your toy girlfriend for you. I discovered why you like girls so much!"

Larry looks shocked and upset but then he starts laughing a bit. "Congratulations, little bro. Seems you've finally lost your virginity, in a matter of speaking."

"Lost my what?"

"You had SEX."

"Huh? OH! So THAT'S what this sex stuff is about!"

"Yeah yeah yeah now go get yourself a girlfriend to do it with and get out. I've got me some payday moneys which means I'm gonna have a hot date night at the ritz this weekend yo."

"Cool. Hey, can I keep your inflatable girlfriend?"

"HAHAhahaha NO." Larry takes the inflatable girlfriend from me. "Now GET OUT."

Larry is disgusted at the mess I made on it and he wants to wash it off before he can use his weenie on her. He slams the door shut and he is going to change the number on the lock to '666'. He's not very bright about what numbers to pick, is he?

He didn't even say thank you for blowing up his girlfriend doll! What an ingrate!


	7. Ludwig's Unique University Experience

Greetings. I am Prince Ludwig von Koopa, Ph D.

Or I will be soon, anyway. After enduring the thirteen years of Hell that was Koopergarten and grade school, as my father had insisted despite the bachelor's degree I had achieved at the age of four, I had graduated first among my so-called 'peers' at the Mushroom Kingdom Academy, and immediately after I packed up and made my way off to Frankenstein University to earn a Ph D. in Mad Science and an M.F.A. in Mad Music.

The faculty here, quite naturally, are very much impressed by my prodigious levels of talent and skill. So impressed, as a matter of fact, that I have been granted an entire research laboratory all to myself. The very same one my great uncle Wolfgang used to direct, as a matter of fact, before his frequent psychotic episodes, and subsequent detainments at the asylum, rendered him unfit for professorship in the eyes of this institution.

I snicker with glee. These shall truly be the best years of my life. Here among the high-end supercomputing equipment, the cryogenic chambers stocked with organs and tissue samples that I can assemble like robot parts into a living being of my own design, the voice-activated chemical cabinets that can dispense a vial of almost any chemical species ever synthesized upon command, provided you know its IUPAC nomenclature - this laboratory was not designed to be accessible for the mentally disabled - a cleanroom for assembling nanoprocessors and other nanoscale materials, a tabletop particle accelerator, an MRI machine, a laser that can be tuned through a wide spectrum ranging from infrared to x-rays, an astronomical observatory on the top floor, a jar with my _Großonkel_'s gallbladder in it that he gave me as a back-to-uni present, and other things which I am sworn to keep top-secret. Not to mention my favorite, the spiraling tubes of distillation equipment that I had set up to drip a drop of cold-brewed _Kaffee_ every three point one seven seconds into a large beaker. Gourmet perfection cannot be rushed.

No more being ordered around by 'King Dad'.

No more of Lemmy sneaking into my room to steal my imported chocolates and scribble his crayons over my textbooks.

No more of Roy physically and verbally harassing me for my less masculine hobbies, whilst concealing his own feminine interests. Of course, I am polite enough to allow him to carry on believing that he has pulled the wool over everyone's eyes regarding said interests; or, shall I say, not foolhardy enough not to.

No more of arguing with Iggy over which of us is the superior inventor, which of us has the higher IQ, et cetera et cetera. He has been so poisoned by envy that he is unable to admit that I clearly have him defeated on all measures. Poor delusional bastard, and to think that he accuses me of the same.

No more of listening to Wendy's shrill whining and trifling gossip and prattling on the merits of lowbrow consumer culture. I appreciate a fine new pair of shoes as much as anybody, but to purchase a dozen pairs with money that is not even hers, and only because somebody arbitrarily decided that they were 'in season', only to dispose of them as soon as they no longer hurt to walk in, is simply disgusting.

No more of being the target of Morton's obnoxious, repetitive, and unwitty jokes. He will never let me live down the time I vomited over the electronic harpsichord during my performance at the school talent show, having eaten a few spoiled bratwursts earlier that day. Morton immediately broke out in laughter, shouting, "HA HAHAHAHA, man I guess those was some SPOILED BRATS! GET IT? SPOILED BRATS? HAHAHAHAHA!" It seems now, however, that a video of him exhibiting the most disturbing behaviour at a vibrating furniture store has become viral over the internet; although such viewing content is not at all my cup of tea, I am indeed pleased that somebody has taken the initiative to give Morton a taste of his own medicine.

And no more of having to keep an eye on Larry, knowing he is always looking for an opportunity to lift Coins and other valuables from my possession. Or pester me about helping him with some ludicrous scam of his. When he asked me to synthesize illicit substances for his drug dealing operation, I told him to find somebody else to supply his wares.

Just me, myself, and my solitude. My brains. My ideas. My creations. My-

"LUDDY! I've filled your prescription!"

The one who broke my moment of peace is none other than fellow Ph D. candidate Princess Lavender of Sarasaland. I would normally be most annoyed at her for bursting into my lab like this, but in this case, I have made a deal with her to supply me with a certain mind-enhancing nootropic, in exchange for a seat at tonight's performance of my original musical theatre production, "Frigid: Kingdom of the Snow Prince". A tame request, knowing what she is inclined to ask for.

Not that I am incapable of synthesizing the nootropic for myself; rather, I find the process to be excruciatingly tedious. However, it is not legally available for purchase, and the variety that Larry sells is of very questionable composition.

My hair bristles as Lavender leans in to sniff my neck. "Mmm, is that CnR Create Leo for Men you are wearing?"

"Why, yes. I am rather fond of the coffee accord in the base."

Lavender inhales more deeply. " I am also picking up the accord of _lavender_."

I cringe. For all of her annoying characteristics, the younger cousin of Sarasaland's crown princess Daisy is among the few in my acquaintance whose intellect is in any league near my own, and furthermore, who views me as an ally rather than as a bitter rival, and yet I have always felt ill at ease around her. Behind comically enormous pink-rimmed spectacles, her eyes are aglow with an unsettling lascivity, feeling in a way toward me that I have never felt toward another, nor am I sure that I am even capable of feeling in such a way. I suppose that others would find the absence of such feelings to be a pathological trait, but every time I have borne witness to the angst that my siblings have suffered during the throes of their hormonal years, I have felt nothing but relief to be exempt from such distractions.

"Do you like my perfume Luddy?"

She smells as though she had submerged herself in it. "It's... tolerable." Barely. I soon realise that I recall smelling the same scent on Wendy, and a whiff of it off of Roy beneath all the zirconium-heavy antiperspirant and Old Spice.

"I made it myself! You can buy it in stores now, I call it Fairy Princess by Lavender. The top notes are marion berry, white tea, peach, pink freesia and wild lavender; the heart notes are Vanilla Dome vanilla, honeysuckle, and sugar glazed lavender, and the base notes are sandalwood, Baltic amber, cashmere musk, and-"

"Let me guess... LAVENDER."

"Ah-ah! BULGARIAN lavender!"

Shocker. "Will you kindly hand over what I had requested now and LEAVE."

"Sure thing!" Lavender hands me a paper bag with a gift bow stuck to it. What I see inside is a Pez dispenser... designed to look like me.

"I know you collect Pez dispensers, and I noticed that there was no Pez dispenser made to look like you, which if you ask me is a travesty! So I had one custom made to look like you."

I rather like it... but the most I shall tell her is a brusque "thank you".

"I designed the pills with a nanostructure that can store more of the active molecules for enhanced potency and duration."

"Impressive" I mutter as I open the dispenser and swallow two of the blue pills. That is my standard dose; rather small by most measures, but, as I have a familial predisposition to mania and psychosis, I feel it would be unwise of me to consume a larger dose, lest I trigger a dormant disorder to awaken.

"Luddy, be careful, one of those pills is at least TWICE as potent as the ones you're used to."

"You may leave now, _Prinzessin_."

"Uh, okay then, bye Luddy! See you at the show tonight!" I hear her run off, stop for a moment and run back.

"Oh and in exchange for filling your next prescription I would like you to help me with my upcoming flanker fragrance. It's going to be called Fairy Queen by Lavender, and I want it to be a more mature scent, since you've got such good taste about such things... for this one, I'm thinking champaca and FRENCH lavender."

"We shall discuss that later. You are DISMISSED now, _Prinzessin_."

"Okies... bye again!" She runs off, knowing that if she doesn't that I will be forced to seize her and physically escort her out. I lock every single lock in the lab's superfluous security system behind her.

I dump out the beaker of coffee that had taken hours to fill to three-quarters. I saw what she did there. She has been trying to slip me samples of her experimental love potions for years.

I open my miniature refrigerator to take out my substitute caffeine beverage of choice, a blue edition Red Boo.

_Red Boo?!_

I could have sworn... I know for a FACT that it was a Red BULL when I purchased it and when I put it in the refrigerator! First the spoilt brats and now this. I should have thought twice about purchasing a miniature refrigerator, or anything for that matter from a flea market inside a refurbished Ghost House.

I do not feel in particular need of caffeine at this moment anyway. Although I could use a drink for the liquid content, as my mouth is already parched, a side effect of the nootropic. I had already become tolerant of that effect at my normal dose, so Lavender was indeed right about these pills being stronger.

But the bothersome feeling of dry mouth soon becomes the last thing on my mind as I dive headfirst into the pile of projects and assignments I have fallen behind on. As much as it blows my mind that I have ever fallen behind on anything, I can attest that it is due to no lack of intellectual fortitude, but rather to a certain... distraction.

There is a pipe to a Game Guy casino on the Frankenstein University campus. Having never set foot inside a casino before, barring the occasional music performance, I felt it would be an important and inspiring experience to... test a few of my hypotheses on combinatorial game theory.

Playing the games - I mean, testing my hypotheses turned out to be far more pleasurable than I had thought it would be. I was studying in the casino for the entire weekend without rest, drinking nothing but Kaffee and eating nothing but the nootropic pills, and yes, I wagered my own money - not enough to ruin me, but nonetheless, I did it. I picked up _gambling_. I am not proud to admit it, but I have succumbed to the raging pleasure of this new vice.

But for all the catching up on assignments that I have now to do, I had gotten exactly what I had intended to out of that experience. I speed through the more trivial of my assignments - proving group theoretical conjectures, debugging the code I had written for my new and improved strong AI drones, and typing up the abstract for the research paper on the latest results on my cure for brain cancer, concealing the fact that my test subjects were Dentist Guys in training from the university's Mad Dentistry programme, of course - and once that is all finished, I am ready - MORE than ready - to write up the details of my doctoral dissertation.

My body is erupting with howls of laughter. I am salivating - foam, as my mouth is too dry not to stretch the saliva with colloidal bubbles - at my own buzzing electric thoughts. I shall have to use the really BIG chalkboard for this!

The chalkboard so big, one must use an escalating ladder on wheels to write across it! The fever, the RELEASE! This is truly groundbreaking. I have discovered an algorithm that, given the current state of one's neural synapses, or at the macro level, one's mind, can construct a Markov decision process detailing the expected decisions made by the subject given any external input. This means that I can systematically read minds, and what's more, figure out exactly WHICH buttons to push on a person to put its mind into a state of perfect predictability - FOOLPROOF MENTAL MANIPULATION! WOOHOOHOO I will ALWAYS have the upper hand on my enemies! Even Ignatius, my greatest rival and own brother shall be confounded senseless! It's all a matter of being able to remember the entire algorithm and spontaneously crunch through the millions of variables, but that should be no problem, my brain is plenty big enough to hold all of that in. I'll ALWAYS WIN at the casino, even at those pesky imperfect information type chance games, I'll see right through that poker face every time! WOOHOOHOOOOO I'LL EVEN BE ABLE TO BEAT THE PIANO!

I'm almost breathless from giggling. Perhaps I am turning out just a little bit like my _Großonkel_ after all.

I finish writing it down, my brain buzzed from the pleasure of watching my own theory unfold perfectly before my eyes. Yes... YEEEES! WOOHOOHOO I'M A GENIUS! I'M SOOOO SMART! SUCH BRILLIANCE! I'M SO BREATHLESS FROM MY OWN BRILLIANCE IT'S KILLING ME!

My brain explodes with a rush of electric pleasure, too much for even my own king-sized cranium to contain, so it spills out down the spine in shivering shock waves throughout my body. My face is almost numb from laughing like one of _Onkel's _electroconvulsive test subjects, and it takes me a while to realise that my pants are soaked from this pleasure.

Just a natural bodily function, albeit an awkward and frustrating one; not exactly one of evolution's crown jewels, but nothing to be ashamed of. I need to change anyway, since rehearsal for my musical will begin in about an hour.

In a nutshell, Frigid: Kingdom of the Snow Prince tells the story of a faux-Scandinavian prince who, indifferent to all of his would-be suitors, is frustrated by his parents' constant attempts to make him marry, so he runs away and locks himself in an ice palace where, finally at peace with himself in the freedom of solitude, he learns to love himself and thus declares himself the King of Hearts, but his plans to establish his own Kingdom of Hearts are tragically cut short when he becomes a little too passionate with himself and accidentally slices a sword through his own skull. It's mostly a one-man show, with a score that is as crowd-pleasing as it is elegant.

I have been looking forward all day to changing into my costume. I retrieve it from the laboratory's locker room and carry it up to the great mirrored picture frame. Here I stand in soiled trousers and a lab coat that also could use a washing, albeit smartened up with a silken bow tie. Eighteenth century style cravats are more my style, but a cravat would look rather ridiculous with lab attire.

I unbutton my labcoat and toss it off for the robot laundry maids to take care of. I do the same with the rest of my clothing, though not without a sneering look of disgust at the sodden mess I had made of my pants. Before suiting up in my princely theatre garb however, I take more than a moment to observe and even admire my unclothed reflection.

I only now notice how much of my spare fat has been burned away. This is not surprising, as the nootropic is known to reduce appetite and result in subsequent weight loss. As of late I have hardly touched the wafer cookies and pastries that I typically snack on during long laboratory hours; it was only a little while ago that I had to throw out a barely nibbled cinnamon roll and a "barbarian" creme doughnut that had been bitten once into a fat crescent shape and gutted of its creme, both of which had become moldier than my penicillin petri dishes. Most of my calorie consumption has been in liquid form, from Koopaccinos or energy drinks. Perhaps I shall not have to wear a corset with my costume after all.

That is not to say that I have become skin and bone; rather, the fat had melted away to unveil beautiful, toned muscles underneath. Many are surprised that such a cerebral fellow as myself who engages neither in physical sports nor a fitness regimen would have such muscle. This is largely ignorance on their part; singing opera requires a greater degree of physical exertion than most realise, as does playing certain musical instruments. In addition, I have taken up ballet again since starting university; I had been introduced as a young child during my stay with _Mutter_, but I was later peer-pressured to quit while growing up in the strictly gender-conformist culture of Dark Land.

I slide out of my shell so that I can get a better view. As I ogle myself, my mind half-consciously draws comparisons between my own body and Michelangelo's _David, _while my fingers half-mindedly trace down the contours of my torso, from the pectoralis majors down the ribcage to the groin. The feel of my claws just lightly grazing the groin area triggers a reflexive contraction of the genital area. This is a normal response, tested along with the patellar reflex during physical exams, but it feels borderline painful, even violative, when the doctor does it.

Under my own hands, however, it is not unpleasant at all.

My eyes at last peer downward to gaze upon my scrotum and... penis, with a bashful curiosity. I have had reasons over the years to hide my genitals from the prying eyes of even my own brothers - modesty; a desire not to attract unwarranted jealousy, from Roy in particular; and also not to draw attention to a striking difference between my own and those of my brothers.

Circumcision is not practiced in Dark Land; I have seen more than enough of Koopa phalli to be certain of that. I on the other hand was hatched and for a short time raised in the Real World, where the severing the foreskins of young males, though not universal, is practiced by multiple cultures for a variety of reasons. My absence of foreskin then more than anything marks me as a Real Worlder by birth. I fortunately do not recall the incident, nor did I even know what had happened or even that something had happened for a considerable while, nor am I certain of my maternal family's rationale behind the action. Curious though I may be, I have always found myself tongue-tied every time I had gotten the chance to ask them.

The organ is partially erect, which is worrisome. If it is not resolved, I fear that it will split open my lovely new pair of skintight plum silk velvet breeches. I return to the locker to retrieve my ballet tights and leotard to wear underneath, with the hope that the chafing of spandex beneath the binding tightness at the crotch of the leotard would stifle it to soften up and shrink away.

Afterwards I button up my waistcoat, fasten the solid gold monogrammed cufflinks on my burgundy tailcoat, pull up and garter my silken white stockings, slide into the silky velvet breeches - even through the tights, my loins quiver at the mere feel of these! - slip on my shiny black patent leather opera slippers, and tie up the lace and frills of the cravat around my shirt collar as icing on the cake.

For additional finishing touches, I powder my face, color the lips red, apply blush to the cheeks, and brush glittering bismuth powder over the eyelids. I spray on more of the cologne that the Princess had admired. I pick up a can of Dr. K's Perm-in-a-Can and spray it over my unkempt blue locks. My hair is now instantly perfect, just as I - er, Dr. K had designed the spray to do, if rather crisper and curlier than I normally wear it.

I do look dashing in this suit. Quite handsome, if I do say so myself. So meticulously decorated and tied up like a holiday present.

_Simply cannot wait to open it up and tear it all off..._

Did I say that? It must have been the quite ravishing creature I see staring back at me. His eyes are wide and dark and lovely, reminding me of the cosmetic purpose of deadly nightshade, for which it is also called _belladonna_, except that the pupils of this _bello Don _are widened not by atropine but by the nootropic. Just another benign side effect...

He raises his eyebrows up and down in a flirtatious manner. I try not to look at his velvet pants. The hot blood rushes into my own velvet pants... and face... I blush and turn away.

I reel from that intensive experience, and I realize that I actually feel rather giddy. The fiery sense of clarity has not faded; it as though a birthday cake covered by glaring bright, almost too bright candles is illuminating the cozy alcove of my mind. My expansive, immensely creative mind, casting its many constituent objects in a brighter, more colorful light than I had ever seen, or rather thought of them in before. Even the music is more colorful, as nonsensical as that sounds... but the strings of a symphony I had neither heard nor dreamed of before are playing, and as the sound grows, the more colorful and creative the symphony becomes...

I AM INSPIRED!

Inspired to create a music video, and not just any music video but the most avant garde music video this century has yet seen. That video shall be shot straight away!

What better way to burn all this excess pleasure out of my system!

I am an electric being, with lightning quick movements and a high enough voltage in my nerve endings to jump a spark gap the size of this entire lab!

My brain is so loud that it can be heard outside of my skull. The symphony blaring out of my head is also electric, as though played on synthesizers like electronic dance music rather than live acoustic instruments in the hands of virtuosi, but strangely, that does not bother me at all. Avant garde, after all, means pushing boundaries, and the orchestration is no less complex regardless of what instruments are used.

And now the disembodied pairs of mechanical legs come out. Multiple pairs of female legs with stilettos on the feet are walking along the lab floor, fully actuated. Male legs in businesslike trousers burst out of the cabinets, kicking them open, swinging along like marionette legs.

WOOHOOHOO! PERFECT! WOOHOO! LEGS! HOW RICH! WOOHOOHOOHOOHOOO! EXACTLY how I envisioned it!

_All that's missing is... PYJAMAS!_

Pyjamas?

ACH! I feel a swift, sudden kick from behind. It misses my testes, which is quite fortunate because those are a sensitive spot, but the toe nails me squarely in the anus. It doesn't feel quite all that painful; as a matter of fact, it almost feels... pleasant.

I get kicked again, this time in the shell and I am knocked onto my belly. I feel my shell being stomped upon.

It's one of the pairs of mechanical male legs, and I see a pair of female legs walking up toward me. She jumps up, spreads to do the splits, lands her crotch on my neck, and clenches it between her thighs.

I scream in anguish at this act of physical violation. The female legs shake and bounce up and down while keeping a tight grip on my head, ruining my hair, rubbing the hard plastic crotch into my skull like Roy's fist when he gives me a "noogie".

_She must adore the brain..._

The male legs meanwhile continue to knock me between the buttocks, delivering kicks like long, lazy swings of a pendulum. This is all part of the video plot of course. The music is quite upbeat at this part. Still, this scene ought to have ended by now...

_Have you tried asking them politely to quit it?_

I suppose it's worth a shot. "I... I beg your pardon, Mister and Miss Legs, but would you please be so kind as to discontinue assaulting me?"

Both pairs of legs stop attacking me at once and walk off. All of the other leg pair automatons are walking on the ceiling now.

I push myself up and wipe the dust off of my outfit. My cravat at least is not too soiled. I reach down to feel my pants, hoping that the kicking did not cause it to rip at the seams, but all I feel is the now-frayed fabric of my ballet tights. What happened to my pants?

I now see that the pair of female legs that had been attacking me is wearing them!

I chase the contraption as it starts running instead of walking. "GIVE THOSE BACK YOU TORSOLESS TRAMP!"

Then again, the autonomous bottom-down mannequin does not have an erection threatening to burst the pants open, so perhaps they are safer on her for the moment. Now where is my velvet robe...

_Pyjamas!_

What about the pyjamas? What pyjamas? I turn around...

I do indeed see a pair of pyjamas. Black and white striped, far too tall for my figure, and carrying a bucket of laundry detergent in one animated sleeve, and a dispenser cup full of detergent powder in the other.

I run for my life! Screaming; I hope my screaming sounds musical, or I shall have to record it again, or - heaven forbid - correct it using Autotune. I pass through the closest door to another room and slam it shut on the monstrosity.

I meet my admirer again at the mirror in this room. He too is missing the fabulous velvet breeches, and his erection has burst through the ballet spandex through the side of the leotard crotch. From the top up however he is still a perfect, angelic androgyne, and he is shaking his hips to the music in my head, eyeing me as though I were a delicious cake for him to dig into, made all the more desirable by its state of forbidden-ness.

I am not even sickened by his lust this time around, for I now mirror his feelings and desires exactly.

"You..." I say, panting, fearing my trademark eloquence has been lost to the snarling, primal beast that has taken over. I paw the mirror, and he follows suit. "I... want... you in ways that I have never... wanted... ANYONE... or anything..."

My delectable _Doppelganger _nods, snarling his pleasure just under his breath. Small flames flicker out as he exhales; I can almost feel his breath like a radiator upon my face. _"But of course. How could any of the inferior beings you are surrounded by possibly please you as much as you could please yourself?"_

I moan at his voice, like liquid dopamine dripping into my ears. "But... how... how best to, have our cake, and eat it, so to say..."

_"What irony that you should speak of cake, when you have not touched it, or any other food for that matter in a good while... so unlike us..."_

"And the irony that I should hunger for nothing else, and yet hunger for YOU!"

_"For ME!" _

"For _US!"_

If I resist these flaming urges for one more moment, I will spontaneously combust! "WATCH OUT _MEIN LIEBE _HERE I COME!"  
We leap out to seize each other at the exact same moment. I feel the blissful shattering of the mirror between us. I fall to the floor, showered by the sparkling mirror dust.

I roar in dissatisfaction.

_This video will not end before we make schweet, schweet love._

"Damn straight!" I shout out loud. I shove the door open. The pyjamas are gone.

"Shall I hunt down my pants now, or shall I track down my velvet robe and make the loveliest of love in that instead?"

_Look to your left..._

Son of a... that's my houserobe now that's swinging the pail of detergent around!

"ENOUGH!" I thrust my hand out and strike the naughty garment with a lightning bolt. I pick it up, but I hesitate to wear it. It is shorted out and immobilized now, but the static electricity that it now carries is pulling my hair out of place. I toss the clingy mess at the detergent that is dumped all over the floor. Perhaps the pyjamas will return and take the detergent and actually do some laundry with it.

"I really want those pants back..."

_Forget it for now. You don't have time to be chasing those _verdammten_ legs back and forth._

True. I squint as I pull my fingers over my erect penis. It feels like a very pleasant, dopamine-kissed massage, but my touch here evokes none of the passion such as that which had suddenly awakened in me at the sight of myself. My hands, lovely, strong yet dexterous and musically trained as they may be, are not sufficient...

I pull out an old-fashioned gold-plated timepiece from the pocket of my coat, to view my love's reflection on the gold leaf patina of the back. As I move the watch around, his appearance changes over the convex surface. I tilt it one way to enlarge his nose, and then I tilt it another way to enlarge his cranium.

_That schweet, schweet brain... I so desire to make love with it!_

I shiver with yearning at that thought. That is technically impossible, but still... or is it?

I run off, cackling in my highest register at full volume. I must sound as crazed as Ignatius, but I do not care. Lunacy works well for music videos, after all!

I head first into the skull room, which resembles a museum exhibit full of skulls of humans, Koopas, and other creatures from the Real World and the outer metauniversal community alike. From the skull shape, size, and dentition or in the case of avians beak structure, I can discern the age of death, gender, species and even subspecies of each of them at a mere glance. The skulls shake around and flap their mandibles but they stop as soon as I enter.

"WOOHOO... WOOOOHOOHOOHOOOOHOOHOOHAAHAAHAA AHAHA HAAAA!" I pick up a Yoshi skull. "Alas, poor Yoshi, he had a brain and could think once, but he stopped using it, so we TOOK IT AWAY!"

I toss him down and I laugh, and I laugh, even harder than the time I saw the fork and knife symbol marking the location of the new frozen yogurt shop on the school map - What irony! Really now, who eats frozen yogurt with a fork and a knife? I am nearly incapacitated by laughter, but the bony beak of a still-animated toucan skull that dangles from the ceiling snaps me out of it.

"What are you looking at?" I shoot him a sour look. "Don't make me..." I threaten as my fingers are sparking up. He falls still, and I take a deep breath and head for the nearest door.

This is the wrong room... for Hell knows what reason, it is filled with helium... and giant, floating, singing, disembodied fish heads. I shriek in a helium-pitched voice and slam the door shut.

Now to enter the right room.

The BRAIN ROOM.

My breath becomes heavy as I enter. Not because this room is chilled to refrigerator temperature, nor because the damp air smells of ethanol and formaldehyde tinged with a note that is reminiscent of the aroma of a good head cheese, but because it is stocked with rows and rows of jars filled with... _brains._

I love these things. I love them perhaps a little too much, in any case certainly more than I am willing to let on to others. I love the texture, both visually and upon the fingers. To me, there is no masterpiece of nature more beautiful and arousing to the spirits than the intertwining of gyri and sulci, the deep, firm and yet ever-changing convolutions of the cerebral cortex, and the cleavage of hemispheres along the sagittal plane of the skull. The deeper the fissures, the more abundant the furrows, the greater the beauty. Without these, the brain cannot function as intended, and the poor creature whose skull contains it will be born mentally and physically disabled, if not dead. Incidentally, such a smooth cerebrum may resemble a pair of buttocks, or a pair of female breasts. I can never for the life of me understand why my brothers are so sexually aroused by something that resembles lissencephaly.

Much information about the state of the living creature, such as its personality, its skills and talents, experiences, even a rough estimate of IQ level with respect to different dimensions of intelligence, can be gleaned from a thorough visual inspection of the cerebral surface. It is not however an exact science, and any amateur attempt to guess such traits based on a superficial knowledge of the function of the Brodmann areas and the size of the associated gyri on the specimen will more often than not turn out to be dead wrong. The ability to accurately read brains, so to speak, is a very rare skill, and the only other person that I know who possesses it is none other than my own _Onkel_ Wolfgang. He passed the skill along to me through intense coaching during my toddler years, which was especially fun because we got to blow the brains up afterwards.

I feel a greater rush than normal in the presence of these brains. They are mostly long-dead, removed from cadavers that had long since passed into rigor mortis, but toward the back of the room I have kept some fresher brains, preserved in a formula of my own invention that can keep them preserved in a state such that they can easily be brought back to life. One of my goals now is to create such a formula that can revive the older ones.

I shall now take a moment to practice my skills on these fresh meats.

This one is a dragon-koopa, female, middle-aged at time of death. She was of slightly above average intelligence, no less than one standard deviation above the norm. She had been a musician since early puberty, and these markers for well-developed motor control in the oral region lead me to surmise that her specialty was a wind instrument. She had also learned a second language before puberty, but it had attritted due to lack of use after puberty. The cause of death is not apparent here, so it was definitely not due to stroke or other form of direct brain damage.

This next one is a human, male, aged over 16 and under 25 at the time of death. His IQ was likely up to a standard deviation below average in all areas, and he had endured psychological trauma from a prepubertal age. There is also evidence of long-term prescription drug use, as the medulla is lesioned in such a way that indicates the patient suffered from the extrapyramidal symptoms associated with antipsychotics, and the hippocampus exhibits dematuration of a nature as may be expected from a history of SSRI use. More strikingly, there is evidence of electroconvulsive therapy gone horrifically awry, and I of anyone would recognize that, since untested experimental methods of ECT are among _Onkel's _favorite "treatments" for his "patients".

Presently, my skills are advanced enough that I can affirm the former presence of each quality with a smaller than 0.5 percent chance of being wrong. I can distinguish brains more readily than faces. Thus, it is all too obvious to me that none of these are quite the one I am looking for. I have never seen the one that I am seeking in the flesh, or rather outside of the flesh, unless the MRI images I had taken myself and pinned on the wall of my dormitory are to be counted, but I know enough that I would know it if I saw it.

And now I see it.

My penis extends and stiffens to a bonelike consistency before my speedy electric mind can even process...

_Make me yours._

The brain, every bit as glorious as I had imagined but even more breathtaking to behold, is alive, pulsating, suspended in liquid inside a crystal clear glass pyramid.

I gape at it like a starved zombie from Larry's favorite video game. My manhood, having a mind of its own, thrusts itself at the glass and shatters it.

My hands catch the brain just in time before my flailing membrum virile can yet destroy its beauty. An autonomous sensory meridian response like none I have ever felt before shoots through my arms up the periphery to the spine, where it splits to shiver up to my skull and down to my loins.

A knee-jerk shriek of pre-orgasmic delight rips out from my throat. My brain is buzzing just from the presence of the other brain so close to my face. An electric field, equal and opposite to the one in my own body, must be emanating from this brain in my hands. That is absurd, that a brain should carry such a tangible electric field, but it is a SPECIAL brain, after all.

And I know all of its sweet spots.

The tips of my claws spark up, and I aim them at all of the right regions. I fire lightly, at a voltage just below the action potential threshold, but aimed such that the currents intersect at the areas that I wish to activate, and that the additive voltage at those intersections is high enough to trigger action potentials in the neurons in those areas.

My own body reacts just as if I had activated the same areas using electrodes in my own skull. Woohoo a VOODOO BRAIN! Well well well, seems my electric touch could fire off an orgasm in just about any part of my body...

I swiftly compute how to activate the neurons in such a way that I feel the tingles in my forehead instead of my genitals. Tingling, explosively... I bring the tingles down to my nose. I sneeze eight times, eight brilliant, orgasmic times. It is a sensation just like ejaculation, but in the nose, and the ejaculate is nasal mucus rather than semen. The myth about sneezing and orgasm has become a reality.

_Gesundheit._

I next trigger an orgasm in my tail. It travels down my spine, and when it reaches my crooked tail it straightens out and stiffens, and the blood rushes into it but as it is incapable of ejaculation it cannot find relief. I grab it in my hand and stroke the tip with my thumb, until it relaxes and becomes rather sore.

Now for an orgasm of the gastrointestinal tract! I feel the lower intestine moving along rather too quickly... and the contents burst out of the rectum in the form of a fecal aerosol, ripping and soiling my already ruined ballet tights. I am definitely glad now that I am not wearing my velvet pants.

Another orgasm starts at the upper intestine, pushed peristaltically up to the stomach, then through the esophagus. I expect an eructation, but it comes out as vomit. It tastes of bratwurst, which is strange because I have eaten nothing solid, let alone bratwurst in the past twenty-four hours. But it certainly tastes more delicious than the last time I blew sausage.

I now trigger the nerve endings in my teeth to become erogenous zones. I have the urge to gnaw, like a puppy or a teething child, but even stronger... I bite my own arm, piercing through my silken coat sleeve and then through my scales until I bleed, but even the pain of the wound feels ecstatic. I have the urge to bite even harder, until I crunch through the radius and ulna... I turn to the brain and zap this feeling off before I can do too much damage.

Now that I have arrived at my brain's master controls, I can immediately switch off this penile turgor so that I can put my velvet pants back on and head down to the theatre to deliver my performance... ACH! I have almost COMPLETELY forgotten about my show tonight...

_Not so fast, Fancypants. THIS show is not quite over..._

He's right. I am still in the midst of filming my magnificent music video, one that shall sweep all the film festivals, tonight's performance of "Frigid" can wait.

It will not be over until I climax, and by that I mean genitally.

I now realise that the music playing in my mind has shut off. I must have zapped it off on accident. That must be resolved; there is no way that I can orgasm without it!

Very delicately, I tune the music in my mind, much like tuning a radio, except vastly more complicated. Some of these "stations" are awful... oh, there's the music that was on before!

_Keep tuning..._

If he insists. I switch to what at first sounds like a very soft ringing, a mild tinnitis... until it grows in volume and I realise it is a choir of a thousand voices - yes, I can distinguish that many voices sounding at once. They are singing a piece I have never heard of, and yet, it is familiar somehow... perhaps I have heard it in a dream?

I must have... this song resonates with an ethereal beauty such as that I have never heard while awake. At the most, I have been lucid enough to write down a few of the notes before I had woken up enough for it to have vanished tracelessly from my mind...

And here I am now, having the entire piece recorded for my music video!

This music... these voices are pure rapture! I feel a faint flutter in my heart and a gentle buckling of the knees as the electricity rises in my body... I feel as though I am floating, being raised toward the heavens!

I feel so small before this grand chorus; surely this work is not one of my own subconscious design; it is property of Heaven, and what am I doing... who am I, to plagiarise it?

_Of course you composed it, you fool! If such a place as Heaven existed, what makes you think they would allow a Hellbound bastard such as yourself to so much as listen to it?_

Good point, very good point. Of COURSE I composed it; in my sleep, even! I am preternaturally gifted enough, after all.

My eyes are closed, my head leaned back in a trance state. The song is building up to a climactic crescendo, and I can feel the bright white magic glowing out of me... my spine curls backwards, I quake at the loins, and I scream, possessed by ecstasy, in a thousand voices, in every language I know, and many more that I do not. The thunder rolling through my body is so physically intense that I fear that the lightning will take my life...

I CLIMAX - an ecstatic explosion of electrified ejaculate, fired like blasphemy at the heavens, raining down like sparkling jewel drops of morning mist.

I rub my eyes, seeing the brain I have left on the floor. I raise it to my face, which once again buzzes... my penis, still not yet softened, raises once more and fires a final spritz of semen between the hemispheres.

The semen that rests like dew upon me carries a distinct, even arousing scent, which is especially delicious in combination with my cologne. I can... I can probably tweak the synapses some more so that I can make the refractory period shorter, and do this again... and again... and write my doctoral dissertation on this instead of that paltry game theory idea. No wait... there is not much I can do to the brain that will make it clear the arousal-repressing prolactin from my bloodstream more quickly... prolactin does stimulate milk production though...

I cackle out a love-drunken laugh as I arouse my breasts, causing them to become swollen like a female's, and feel the rush of ejaculating milk out of both nipples. I lick it off my succulent cerebral cortex - my tongue twists with the pleasure and agony of arousal without means of release.

I feel different, in a way that I cannot quite put my finger on as of yet... I have this strange urge to, well, I believe to share this BRILLIANT discovery of mine with the WORLD! Maybe I fundamentally changed something about my psyche whilst LITERALLY fucking around with my brain! Maybe, but if it turns out to be an issue later, I can surely resolve it. I had best see to this music video that I had just recorded - is it still being recorded? The camera should be OFF now! - and what was that other thing that I have to do?

My stream of thoughts is broken by _Toccata and Fugue in D minor _- that's the doorbell! WOOHOOHOO I rush to the laboratory entrance to open all the locks and answer it!

"Come IN!" I greet in a singsong voice, cackling afterwards.

"Luddy?" Oh my, it's the _Prinzessin _Lavender! "What are you doing? The play should have already started by now!"

"WOOHOOHOO... WAAAAHAAHAA! Oh, you mean that silly little dinner show? I have been working on far greater things, madam, FAR greater, woohoohoohaahaa!"

I place my hand on my chin as I pierce her with the most direct eye contact she has ever gotten from me. Her facial expression indicates alarm, and she steps back.

"Luddy, are you all right? You, uh... aren't quite yourself right now..."

"Am I alright? AM I ALRIGHT?! MUHAHAHAHAHAha, never better, my dear, never better!"

I take a step forward. Her perfume actually smells quite enticing now. Perhaps it's the mingling accord of FEAR that's making all the difference?

"May I invite you in? We have PLENTY of stale wafer cookies; have as much as you like!" I lick the froth from my lips. HER brain is certainly quite comely; perhaps second only to mine in the world!

"N-no thank you..."

"Oh, but I INSIST! I could introduce you to... my collection," I purr, reaching for her waist, but she pulls back. Her bespectacled face turns red when she turns it toward my crotch.

"LUDWIG... WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR PANTS?" she gasps faintly.

"BWAHAHAHAHAA, pants... there will be no need for such things as PANTS..." I growl softly, my body hot from the fire in my brain that won't burn out. The leotard crotch is tightening again, and this time it may not even hold together...

"Luddy...? Don't... are you... ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?" she screams.

_She WAS asking for it..._

I nod in agreement. "What's the matter, my darling, is it not what you have been BEGGING of me for the better part of my LIFE?"

"Uuuuhhh... b-b-b-but..."

"WOOOOhoohoohoohoohoohoohoo, WHAT GOES AROUND COMES AROUND!"

"B-but Luddy... I-I-I'm not that kind of girl... Couldn't we at least get married first? Whaaa... NO! Keep your claws off of me! Don't make me... uh oh... STOP! PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T... HEEEEEEEEELLLLLP!"


End file.
